Format: Sound quality is fair; beginning and endings of tapes tend to be garbled and low.

Collection Summary: An interview of Sylvan Cole conducted 2000 June-Oct., by Avis Berman, for the Archives of American Art.

The interviews took place over five sessions in New York, N.Y. Cole discusses the history of Associated American Artists, the gallery for whom he began working in 1946, and its marketing techniques, customer base, and personalities, such as its founder, Reeves Lewenthal. He also traces his own development as a dealer in prints after he left AAA and recalls many artists and other figures in the art world, including Will Barnet, Werner Drewes, Richard Florsheim, Helen Frankenthaler, David Hockney, Hans Hofmann, Edward Hopper, Una Johnson, Jacob Kainen, Jack Levine, William S. Lieberman, Robert Motherwell, and Raphael Soyer.

Biographical/Historical Note: Sylvan Cole (1918-2005) was an art dealer and writer of New York, N.Y.

This interview is part of the Archives of American Art Oral History Program, started in 1958 to document the history of the visual arts in the United States, primarily through interviews with artists, historians, dealers, critics and administrators.

Funding for the digital preservation of this interview was provided by a grant from the Save America's Treasures Program of the National Park Service.

How to Use this Interview

The transcript of this interview is in the public domain and may be used without permission. Quotes and excerpts must be cited as follows: Oral history interview with Sylvan Cole, 2000 June-Oct, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution

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Interview Transcript

This transcript is in the public domain and may be used without permission. Quotes and excerpts must be cited as follows: Oral history interview with Sylvan Cole, 2000 June-Oct, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

Interview with Sylvan Cole
Conducted by Avis Berman
At the Sylvan Cole Gallery, New York
June-October 2000

Preface

The following oral history transcript is the result of a tape-recorded interview
with Sylvan Cole from June through October, 2000. The interview took place at
the Sylvan Cole Gallery, New York and was conducted by Avis Berman for the Archives
of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

The reader should bear in mind that he or she is reading a transcript of spoken,
rather than written prose.

Interview

AVIS BERMAN: This is Avis Berman on June 28th, 2000, interviewing Sylvan Cole
in his gallery at 101 West 57th Street. And at the risk of being a little bit
redundant, would you begin by stating your full name and your date of birth?

SYLVAN COLE: Sylvan Cole, Junior – that’s the way I was born, no
middle initial. And I was born January 10th, 1918.

MS. BERMAN: Now I will start, and ask you how did you get the name Sylvan?

MR. COLE: I am a junior. And Dad got the name – It’s interesting;
Dad was Sylvan Cohn, C-O-H-N. And right after I was born – I actually
was born Cohn – I guess I was a year old, and the name was changed to
Cole for business purposes and all the rest. And the funny thing is, all Sylvans
– or most Sylvans – are Jewish. But that’s neither here nor
there; that’s how it happened.

MS. BERMAN: Uh-huh. And Sylvan, was that any sort of family name or anything?

MR. COLE: I don’t know how he got it. Theoretically, I had heard that
it came somewhere from Alsace Loraine, where there was a family root. And it
was a fairly common name there.

MR. COLE: Dad was a – a rare reversed Californian. Dad was born in Los
Angeles, moved to Pomona when he was very young. And my grandfather had a dry
goods store in Pomona, when it must’ve been a real backwash place. I never
forgave my grandparents or great-grandparents for not – who headed out
to the gold rush and ended up in the wrong city. But anyway, Dad moved to Los
Angeles to be bar mitzvahed. And my grandmother – Grandpa, I think, had
passed away very early; I never knew him. But my grandmother took in boarders.
And they had this big house. And I think the population of Los Angeles was roughly
50,000 people. And one of the boarders carried the Arrow shirt line. My uncle
Walter – he became my Uncle Walter. And his territory was the Mississippi
River, west.

Dad was born 1889. And – Uncle Walter and Dad got together. He –
Uncle Walter became Uncle Walter by marrying Dad’s sister, Rose, my Aunt
Rose. And he became Uncle Walter, and he and Dad started Dollar Shirt Shops.
They prospered. They had several stores in Los Angeles, several stores in San
Francisco. And time came to make their fortunes, and the two of them came east
to set up a company, which became National Shirt Shops.

And at that time, on a blind date, my dad met my mother. Mother came from a
very long, illustrious Jewish family, whose family root was Ballin, B-A-L-L-I-N.
And the Ballin family were wealthy Germans. Huge families. Eight, ten, twelve
kids, every – almost every generation. And the Ballin family, part of
it was Albert Ballin, who owned and directed the North German Lloyd Line before
World War Two. And theoretically, an uncle, Hugo Ballin, who was a painter and
designed the sets for the Wizard of Oz, and lived in California. We
trace our family back to the Bellinis in Italy. And the Balin, B-A-L-I-N, who
did the Gardens of Versailles in France. And so they were all one happy family.

And Mother grew up, born of – A grandmother of mine who was born in Mississippi,
and a grandfather of mine who was born in New Orleans. Mother grew up here in
New York, and went to Ethical Culture, which was a very fine school, and to
Horace Mann. [Phone rings; tape stops, re-starts]

MS. BERMAN: You were talking about the Ballins.

MR. COLE: So – And Mother married Dad. She had graduated Horace Mann
in 1915; taught at Ethical Culture. She – I just realized she didn’t
go to Ethical Culture, she – she went to Horace Mann. She taught at Ethical
Culture. And Dad, she married – when Mother was nineteen. And I was born
the following year. And I graduated Horace Mann almost twenty years to the day
that my mother had graduated. Isn’t that amazing, that – And when
I was born, I had a great-great-grandmother living in Holland, five generations.

MS. BERMAN: Well, that’s also amazing that even on your father’s
side, that they would come – There were very few Jews that came as early
as they did. I guess they were almost Yankees on your father’s side, as
well as your mother’s.

MR. COLE: Well, Dad has little books I have somewhere of the Jewish families
in Los Angeles in those days. And they went to film. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Almost
all the film people were Jews.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, but they weren’t born there, and they weren’t born
in California.

MR. COLE: No, that’s true.

MS. BERMAN: I mean, obviously, your father was born in this country. [MR. COLE:
Yeah, yeah] That was very early, so you’re – At least your grandparents
or great grandparents came. Also, yes, Hugo Ballin was also a very successful
academic muralist. There’s actually quite a bit about him around.

MR. COLE: Oh, I’m sure. And the funny thing is, I just heard from a cousin
in Washington. And he was so excited. He went to the – He’s writing
a guided tour of Washington, D.C. And he went to the Renwick Gallery, and there
were two paintings of Hugo Ballin.

MS. BERMAN: Well, no, he was quite powerful in –

MR. COLE: I’m surprised; nobody’s ever heard of him but you. [Laughs]

MS. BERMAN: Well, I have, because he was involved in the early National Academy
of Design, and he was – he was a friend of Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney’s.

MR. COLE: He even left money at the American Academy of Arts and Letters for
funds for needy artists. And there is a fund there that I’ve applied for
once, for an artist who was being evicted.

MS. BERMAN: Well, that’s very interesting, that you never researched
it more.

MR. COLE: I never researched him at all.

MS. BERMAN: Now, just to explore the family a little bit more, Irving Berlin’s
original name was Ballin. Did you ever find Irving Berlin to be a relative?

MR. COLE: I think all Ballin’s were related.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. And now, did you have – did you have any brothers
or sisters?

MR. COLE: I have two brothers, younger. One’s still alive, just reached
80 years old, and lives down in Texas. And I have another brother who died about
1969 or ‘70 in an auto accident out in the Hamptons. He was a –
probably at his age – Let’s see, in 1968, I would’ve been
40, he’d have been 28. In 19 – No, I’d have been 50; he’d
have been 38. He had the biggest and best print collection. Sort of a sibling
situation. He had – And his widow, who’s remarried to Jack Greenberg,
the NAACP [National Association for the Advancement of Colored People] founder,
legal founder

MS. BERMAN: Well, let us now – This sounds like quite a cultivated home,
in terms of education and culture and curiosity. And I’d like to ask you
what sorts of – you know, were you exposed to art when you were a child?

MR. COLE: It’s interesting. My parents were not collectors, but they
did have, interestingly enough, mostly prints, which was very much the vogue.
I can remember [inaudible] panel huge, ugly, dark etchings in the living room.
But Mother was interested, and I remember, even as a teenager, going gallery
hopping with Mother, or going to museums.

And one of my favorite places was Stieglitz’s American Place, and seeing
my first O’Keeffe show, which was All Camellias, and practically
swooning, it was so beautiful. And Stieglitz would come out in his gray smock
and pat me on the head and tell me about the pictures, and – and –
I was one of the few youngsters that ever went into that gallery. And I remember
him very vividly.

But I think the real seminal change in my life was – My closest friend
at Horace Mann was a boy named Herbert Hirschland. And Herbert’s family
was a Dr. [Franz H.] Hirschland, who was president of American Metal-something
– I won’t remember this – which became American Can. And his
mother was Swedish, lovely lady. [Phone rings; tape stops, re- starts]

MR. COLE: Anyway, Dr. Hirschland had a Daumier, “Third-Class Carriage”
– or second class, I forget. A small version. El Greco that maybe is not
an El Greco. Van Gogh, Renoir, Degas, Cezanne, and a host of other wonderful
paintings in his home.

MS. BERMAN: Paintings, not –

MR. COLE: Right. And I almost became a weekly weekender there, and –
[Door bell]. Can you get that? [tape stops, re-starts]

MR. COLE: I was a constant weekender. And I do know that I – I remember
something that Herbert denies could have been true. But I remember Dr. Hirschland
talking to a scruffy old guy at breakfast, when Herbert and I just were dying
to get excused so we could play war upstairs in the attic. And that scruffy
old guy was Albert Einstein. And Herbert says that is – I couldn’t
make it up.

And the other thing I remember is that at the end of the – behind Dr.
Hirschland, on the wall in the dining room, was a Cezanne of a view of a hillside.
And that Cezanne [Gardanne, 1885-86]is now at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
And I go and visit it – to see my Cezanne. And in my bedroom, I remember
two paintings. One was a painting of [Paul] Klee of the famous cat with the
whiskers [Cat and Bird, 1928], which is now at the Museum of Modern
Art. And I remember there was a Franz Kline of blue horses. And that’s
all I remember. But Dr. Hirschland used to take me around and explain the pictures.
I was the only kid that had any interest in that.

Other memories I have of growing up is going to the Met, and having the whole
place to myself, gallery to gallery; and falling in love with George Inness.
I can’t remember that painting, Good and Plenty [Peace and
Plenty, 1865] or something. This huge, huge picture of a bucolic landscape;
and I think it had a rainbow and – as a city boy, he was my favorite artist.

MS. BERMAN: George Inness.

MR. COLE: Yeah. And – Then I also remember starting a collection of postcards
of all the works of art I could grab a hold of. And I still have it in a file
box somewhere at home, and I don’t know what to do with it, but –
Even when I went to Europe in my college days, I would collect cards from various
museums. That’s sort of up to college. I graduated Horace Mann in ‘35.

MS. BERMAN: So I just – So Hirschland, is that H-E-R-?

MR. COLE: H-I-R-S-C-H-

MS. BERMAN: Oh, ok. L-A-N-D?

MR. COLE: L-A-N-D.

MS. BERMAN: Did you – but did you draw or paint? Did you like to do it
yourself?

MR. COLE: No. Never.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. Now, Stieglitz was actually – Was he interested in
your mother, or he just sort of made a pet of you?

MR. COLE: Yeah, I think he was just interested in people that were interested
in what he showed.

MS. BERMAN: Did you ever meet any of the artists that came into the gallery?

MR. COLE: Never. I don’t remember ever meeting any artist – before
I got to Associated American Artists [AAA] in ‘46. Certainly, if I did
it was no artist of note.

MS. BERMAN: Well, Stieglitz was an artist, of course.

MR. COLE: Yeah. Well, he was my first art connection, I guess, to the art world.

MS. BERMAN: Well, did you – did you have any sense when you looked at
his gallery – did you have a sense of the gallery itself as a gallery,
or interest in it as sort of an environment.

MR. COLE: I – I just was fascinated with Georgia O’Keeffe. And
I did go to a few of the shows. I presume I went to some others, but I don’t
remember them. I only remember – and it’s funny; in the Whitney
retrospective [1970] of O’Keeffe – I don’t think it was in
the Met; it was an earlier one – there was a piece of graph paper, and
it had a line with a sort of bulge in it, like this; and then it had a zigzag.
And it was Man and Woman. And I – that – Stieglitz explained
that to me. And it was so abstracted, of course, but – I just remember
that little tidbit.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, he explained it to you. It would be interesting to recall what
he said. Now, you – you went to Cornell, and you majored in English and
minored in art history. Was there a reason that it was that way, rather than
the other way.

MR. COLE: Art history at Cornell University consisted of one hour each semester,
elective, your junior or senior year, period. And it was a slide course, which
took you from Egypt right through to Picasso. And it’s the only course
I ever got A’s in. And now they give a doctorate. It’s just amazing.
Two hours, one hour each semester, was all that it had for the history of art.

MS. BERMAN: Well, why did you decide to go to Cornell?

MR. COLE: It was just something people were doing in those days. Dartmouth
happened to be my first choice, and I didn’t get into Dartmouth, and I
did get into Cornell, and Penn and Columbia, and I didn’t want a city,
so I picked Cornell.

MS. BERMAN: So now, did you collect – I think I read in one of the articles
that you may’ve been collecting prints in college? Is that correct?

MR. COLE: No.

MS. BERMAN: Ok. That’s a mistake.

MR. COLE: Mother was the collector. Let’s see. Associated American Artists
was started in 1934. And Mother was one of the early people that were buying
the five dollar prints. And while I was in college, I would come home and Mother
would have the catalogues. And I’d say, “Get this, get this, get
this,” and she’d buy them and put ‘em in her sollinger box,
or occasionally I think they hung a few of them, but I don’t remember
that.

MS. BERMAN: Now, she would listen to you.

MR. COLE: Yes, but she also had some definite opinions.

MS. BERMAN: In those days, what were – what were you telling her to buy?

MR. COLE: I do remember I told her to buy Grant Wood. I don’t remember
any of the – I remember Marion Greenwood was another person that I thought
would – and Earl Horter. Those were prints that were being published by
– and I thought were very interesting.

This is almost an aside, but I must tell you that years later, when I got to
Associated American Artists, and I took it over – this was 1961, ‘62
– Mother came to me and wanted to sell the Grant Woods. And I said, “You
know, Mom, they’re worth about twelve hundred apiece, and I’ll only
take a 20% commission, and –” And she said, “Oh, if that’s
all, I don’t wanna sell ‘em.” I forgot all about it. About
1966 or ‘7, few – few Grant Woods came up at Sotheby’s. And
they sold for over three thousand dollars. And I called my mother and I said,
“Mom, you won’t believe it! These Grant Woods are selling for over
three thousand.” She says, “I know, they’re mine.” [Laughs;
Phone rings; tape stops, re-starts]

MS. BERMAN: I must ask you, why did your mother decide to sell them at Sotheby’s
and not tell you?

MR. COLE: I have no idea. [MS. BERMAN Laughs] I guess she thought she’d
get more money than getting it from me, that’s all I can say. [Laughs]

MS. BERMAN: Well, just by the way, you told her to buy Grant Wood. Do you remember
what she had picked out from Associated American Artists?

MR. COLE: No, not really. It was – it was a very nice cross section collection.
And frankly, I don’t know what happened to most of it. I think they gave
it away to friends and wedding presents and whatever.

MS. BERMAN: But you decided, evidently, you didn’t get enough art history
or you – and you went to Rutgers as –

MR. COLE: My first job out of college was with Sears Roebuck. And I was an
executive trainee at eighteen dollars a week. And I was in New Brunswick, New
Jersey, at the store there, running the men’s clothing department, which
consisted of overalls and work shirts and a few dress shirts and socks and stuff.
And – I went to Rutgers just to take some art history, further art history
courses. That was it, just night classes.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. ‘Cause I didn’t think that Rutgers had any kind
of great shakes art history department then.

MR. COLE: Didn’t. Whatever they had is what I took.

MS. BERMAN : Mm-hm.

MR. COLE: And I have very little memory of who taught it or anything like that.
It was mostly slides, I do remember that.

MS. BERMAN: So you were living in New Brunswick?

MR. COLE: Yes, at the YMCA.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. So this must’ve been – I mean –

MR. COLE: Well, this lasted a relatively short period of time. I got out of
Cornell in 1939. And I was drafted on February 26th, 1941.

MS. BERMAN: Seems early.

MR. COLE: Before we were at war.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. Yeah. Why do you think you were drafted? You were –

MR. COLE: Oh, the number came up.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm.

MR. COLE: We were all registered for the draft, whether you liked it or not,
if you were over eighteen. And my number came up. So I went from New Brunswick
to –

MS. BERMAN: Camp Kilmer.

MR. COLE: No, what’s the fort in New Jersey, the big one?

MS. BERMAN: Hoboken. Was Hoboken there? No, Fort Dix?

MR. COLE: Fort Dix. Went to Fort Dix, got mustered in, got uniform, took a
few weeks of latrine duty and peeling potatoes and marching, and finally they
called us all out, and each platoon got into a train. And it zigzagged back
and forth; we thought we were going to Alabama, to Georgia, to Texas. We didn’t
know where we were going. And we finally get out, and we were at Fort Monmouth,
New Jersey. After two hours – three hours in the train from Fort Dix,
shunting back and forth. And we’re in the Signal Corps. And I am in the
signal construction company, which means you climb telephone poles and string
wires. And there was a fellow soldier by the name of Denny [ph], Robert Denny,
I think, who was a Princeton graduate. And he found out I was a Cornell man.
And he then found out that we never should’ve been in signal construction;
we were supposed to be in radio intelligence. And I often think about this as
the complete twist of fate of our sitting opposite each other, all happened
in that moment of time, when a sergeant, rather than call the roll and assign
the positions for every soldier on the train, just took one car and made them
radio intelligence, another car signal construction. And that was it. And I
was in the signal construction. And most of the guys who were in radio intelligence
were sent overseas and got killed. I think it is the one twist of all my life
that is as capricious as that. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there,
but it’s – it’s always struck me.

MS. BERMAN: So were you in this country the whole time?

MR. COLE: So I’m in signal construction, climbing poles. Finally got
a good job wiring up a hospital. And then they wanted a typist. And with my
two fingers, I went to headquarters and got a job as a typist, where I typed
on the old mimeograph paper. You know, where – with that blue paper, [MS.
BERMAN: Yeah] and I would type the orders for the day, transferring soldiers
or bringing them in or – And then I became a Private First Class. That,
I think, was my highest rank; I don’t think I ever became a corporal.
And around me were all these master sergeants and staff sergeants, with all
the stripes. And of course, the general’s office was right across the
way from me.

And then comes Pearl Harbor. And I remember being in New York. And I was with
my grandmother. And Roosevelt comes on. And we were ordered back to our posts.
And that night – I should say before Pearl Harbor, we lived the life of
luxury. I think I saw every show on Broadway. We got weekend passes. And you’d
go to 38th Street, I think, and Lex [Lexington]. But it was a soldiers and sailors
place, and they had all these tickets, and I’d get two tickets, call a
date, go to the theater. Two tickets, buy.

Anyway, I remember I had a car, which totaled eventually. But – the thing
that I remember that day was heading back to post and wondering what’s
gonna happen to us. And the thing is, nothing happened. You know, we went on
with our lives. Signal people were being sent abroad, of course, and we were
busy. And the other thing I remember is on my desk, I had the Congressional
medal – Not the Medal of Honor, a Medal of Distinguished Service for [Joseph]
Lockard, who was the guy in Hawaii who alerted the fact that the Japanese planes
were coming, and they ignored him. He was all alone, and he picked it up on
his radar screen. And I remember I had his medal, and he was brought to the
post, and we had a big parade when he got the medal. And I wrote the orders
for it, the citation.

Anyway, by February, I guess, they were starting officer candidate schools.
And I applied to the adjutant general’s department, which in peacetime,
you had to be over 40 to be in, which was the Army administration. And lo and
behold, by March, I was sent to the first or second class of the adjuvant general’s
department at Fort Washington, Maryland. And over all of the other sergeants
and the master sergeants, they couldn’t believe that a Private First Class
would be sent to officer candidate school. And I got out in three months as
a first – as a second lieutenant. In another two weeks, or three weeks,
I was made a first lieutenant. And in three months, I was a captain. Let’s
see, this is 1942, 18 – 22 – I was 24 or ‘5 years old. And
we were stationed – if I – I had leave and went into Washington,
D.C., the MPs would come by and say, “Sir, can we see your ID?”
[Laughs] Which was very funny.

Anyway, I then was retained to teach. For a guy who had flunked speech making
or – at Cornell, because I was so scared, here I was now made a school
teacher. And I became a very good one. And I taught military record keeping,
military decorations, on and on. And I taught other officer candidates. And
I even commanded a company one term. And I stayed teaching at the officer candidate
school until I was discharged, five years later. We went from Fort Washington,
Maryland to – At that time, I’d – By then I’d gotten
married to my first wife [Vivian Vanderpool]. We then went to Fort Sam Houston,
Texas. And that’s where my first child, my daughter, was born. I was transferred
before she was born to Fort Oglethorpe in Georgia. And my wife and daughter-to-be
went into Brooke General Hospital. We were transferred, because they thought
the casualties in Japan would be so great that they were going to take over
the entire fort to become a hospital. And then Nancy and my first wife joined
me in Fort Oglethorpe, and – And that’s from where I was discharged,
in March 1946. That’s the whole Army story that I can think of.

MS. BERMAN: Let me just – just – I realize we’re missing,
just in terms of names – What was your mother’s first name?

MR. COLE: Dorothy.

MS. BERMAN: Dorothy. And your first – your first wife’s name was
Ruth?

MR. COLE: My first wife?

MS. BERMAN: Was Ruth?

MR. COLE: Vivian, yeah.

MS. BERMAN: Ok, I only knew Ruth, so that was your—?

MR. COLE: Wait, no, Lillyan.

MS. BERMAN: Lillyan, right.

MR. COLE: Lillyan, you knew.

MS. BERMAN: Right, Lillyan, ok. So your first, her name was Vivian?

MR. COLE: Vivian Vanderpool, and she was from Norman, Oklahoma. But she was
in Washington, working with “Wild Bill” Donovan and the OSS, oh
so secret. I never even knew what she did. She never told me.

MS. BERMAN: And you weren’t curious? Or you knew you’d –

MR. COLE: Yes, but she just said, “Don’t ask me, please.”

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. Well, ‘cause war time, it made sense.

MR. COLE: Yeah. Well, I mean, shortly after we married, she left the job.

MS. BERMAN: And so your eldest child is named Nancy.

MR. COLE: Right.

MS. BERMAN: Ok. So that’s the Army story. Just in curiosity, when you
used to go in on leave, either in New York or Washington, did you – was
it mostly kind of theater and dating? Or did you go to any galleries or –
?

MR. COLE: I do not remember doing any art-wise things during the Army. Except
– Oh, wait a minute. Yes. At Fort Sam Houston, it was – There were
40 posts around – Fort Sam is in San Antonio. There were 40 posts around
that – There were Army airfields right around, there were other military
posts, there were small posts, there were big posts. There were literally thousands
of soldiers in that area. So housing was unbelievably difficult. And the first
house I had, I remember, was a garage apartment. The garage was underneath,
and on top of the garage was a so-called apartment. And I kept trying to get
better quarters. And I had heard that there was a woman named McNay, who had
some cottages to rent. So one morning – At that point, am I a captain?
Yes, I’m Captain Cole. Goes and knocks on the door, and this strange looking
woman in a huge purplish kimono opens the door, and I said, “I’m
here to ask about –” She said, “I don’t have anything
for rent right now.” And I said, “Is that a Renoir over there behind
you?” And she said, “Yes, come in.” And this was the McNay
who –

MS. BERMAN: Marion Koogler McNay.

MR. COLE: That’s right. And I’m the only person, when I go down
to San Antonio, I am the only person that ever knew her. Even John Leeper didn’t
know her, Bob Towbin didn’t know her. Mrs. Towbin may have known her.
But – Anyway, she and I became friends, and we exchanged Christmas cards
until she died.

MS. BERMAN: So what was it like? You used to visit her, and what would –?

MR. COLE: Oh, I – Very seldom. You know, I was busy, I was – The
military was not really a picnic, not during wartime.

MS. BERMAN: No. That’s – that’s interesting, that you saw
that and then – Well, all of a sudden [inaudible].

MR. COLE: I don’t even remember some of the other paintings she had.
I know she had [Joan] Miró, I know she had – I think she had a
Cezanne, I think she had a Monet. She had that sort of impressionist school.

MS. BERMAN: But did you get the cottage?

MR. COLE: No.

MS. BERMAN: [Inaudible].

MR. COLE: But years later, I visited John Leeper, who was director of the museum,
and he was in one of the cottages.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. By the way, I realized why I had called Lillyan and said
Ruth Cole, because Jacob Kainen, you know, Ruth Cole.

MR. COLE: Ruth was Cole.

MS. BERMAN: Called Ruth is Cole, that’s what I meant.

MR. COLE: Sure, I always call her cousin.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, ok. So alright. So we’re – we’re now going
to discharge you from the Army.

MR. COLE: Right.

MS. BERMAN: And you and your family move back to New York City?

MR. COLE: At that point, I had one daughter, and we got a place in Mount Vernon.
An apartment. But I think I stayed with my parents for a month or so. And they
lived on 125 East 72nd Street. I remember the apartment well. And at that time,
my younger brother was – Charles was in the service. And Dick was home.
[Phone rings; tape stops, re- starts]

MS. BERMAN: So you were – Ok, you’re with your parents.

MR. COLE: And – Dad said to me, “Son, you’re going to work
for more part of your life than anything else. And the best thing for you to
do is find something you like.” In the meanwhile, Sears Roebuck wanted
me back. Didn’t want me, but was willing to have me back in the executive
training position I had. They had given me profit sharing while I was away,
and asked if I wanted stock or the cash, and I ended up with 5,000 dollars in
cash, which was an unbelievable amount of money. 1946. I should’ve had
the stock. But anyhow – So I went down to apply for a job, and had an
interview with Reeves Lewenthal, the founder of Associated American Artists.
And I was still in uniform. And he hired me.

MS. BERMAN: Well, but how did you just fasten on, you know, the whole –

MR. COLE: Well, it all came because my parents had subscribed to AAA, and I
had worked with them on buying these five dollar prints. And I was in charge
of the mail order. Now, my first – And also, all the production catalogues.
And my first job, within one day, I had to do a brochure – which was literally
a four page, five and a half, eight and a half thing – on – on Aaron
Bohrod, who was an artist/war correspondent, just come back. And these were
drawings he had made of New Guinea and all the rest of that. Anyway, I then
remember, went over to Life Magazine and got a picture of him as a
war correspondent, which was on the cover. And I made a picture of one of the
New Guinea things, listed all the prints, all the gouaches that were in the
exhibition, and a bio, which I wrote, and produced it, and took about a week
to do this, and Reeves was very pleased.

But then I do remember working – And here is the part that really affects
the oral history. I do remember working on the catalogues and the supplements
offering the prints for five dollars, or six for 25 dollars. The procedure was
to work with two sollinger boxes, both of which were filled with unmatted proofs
of etchings and lithographs and woodcuts. Some wood engravings. One of the cases
was something they sorta passed by, that they didn’t think it was appealing,
and they didn’t – probably would never publish it. But I would lay
out on the floor in the gallery – which was at 711 Fifth Avenue, which
was this huge space, mostly paintings, with a small print room – and I
would lay out on the floor about 40 or 50 proofs. And Bob Parsons, who was the
executive vice-president, just out of the Navy, and Reeves, and a woman named
Estelle Mandel, who was a vice-president, and really, my boss, and myself would
get together and discuss what prints to put into the next supplement. And they’d
say, “Well, we certainly want this Gordon Grant; we certainly want this
Luigi Lucioni.” They were staples. And then they’d say, “Well,
we can’t have all landscape; we can’t have –” And then
we get a figurative one, and we get this and that. And we usually would pick
out of the 40, 12 to 16 prints that would go into the next supplement. And then
I would take over.

I would have halftones made of each of the prints. If the proofs weren’t
signed, we’d fake a signature. Just for the halftone. On a single print.
Because it was a matter of time. Reeves would – or Estelle would order
the printing of the prints. Sometimes we didn’t ask for the full 250.
It would – The edition would be 260. 250 for AAA, and ten for the artist.
The printing, if it were wood, was done by the artist. Like Asa Shepherds did
his own. I think there were a few other, if it was wood, but not too many. The
lithographs were all done at George Miller. And the etchings were all done in
Brooklyn at Anderson-Lamb, right under the Brooklyn Bridge. The plates would
be gotten from the artist, or the stones would be at Miller. And the editions
would be ordered. Sometimes we’d only order a hundred at a time. Save
money. The print – The artist got two hundred and fifty dollars for signing
the prints. We paid for the printing. At George Miller, the printing at that
time was 25 cents a print.

We then would get the prints matted in non-rag mats. And a biography for each
artist would be attached to the mat. And I would write the biography. And it
would say, “Fog Brown, original lithograph; signed original lithograph
by Gordon Grant.” And then they would tell a whole brief biography about
Gordon Grant. And then at the bottom Associated American Artists, 711 Fifth
Avenue, and a little “copyright.” All this would come together.
The catalogue – I would write each artist that was in the catalogue, and
ask for the artist to send me a brief commentary on the particular print that
was going in. So when the catalogue – or the supplement, the supplement
was the 12 to 16 pieces. The supplement would have a little introductory page
explaining what these were, and how much, and how it worked and all this, and
framing and whatever. And then each page would have the illustration of the
print with a little gray halftone border, and the signature, and that’s
– And then it would have the artist’s comment and then a brief bio.
And that was on each page of the supplement.

[BEGIN TAPE ONE, SIDE TWO]

MS. BERMAN: The last thing we had talked about was the framing of these, which
were –

MR. COLE: Right, well that’s probably listed in –

MS. BERMAN: Right.

MR. COLE: Did I – did you have that supplement, or give it back to me?

MS. BERMAN: Oh, here it is.

MR. COLE: Ok, well, let’s – I don’t see anything on framing
on this one.

MS. BERMAN: That’s ok.

MR. COLE: But – Anyway, it seems like one of the pages is gone from this.

MS. BERMAN: But I still want to get back to – You thought of no other
gallery? This was the only place you went? This was the –

MR. COLE: Only gallery.

MS. BERMAN: This was just what you fastened on.

MR. COLE: You’ve got to realize there were not that many. 57th Street
did have a group of galleries. I do remember going into Milch. I do remember
Kraushaar, when it was on the corner of 57th and Madison, the southeast corner.
I remember Knoedler’s was at the corner of 56th and Fifth, the northwest
corner. Very fancy – No, no, Duveen [Galleries] was there. Knoedler’s
was on 57th, right about where the IBM Building is. I do remember going to those
galleries. I – And Kennedy was where? Kennedy – I think it was up
right near the Savoy Plaza, between 57th and Eighth or Eighth and Ninth. That’s
where I met Albert Reese.

But getting back to the supplement. Because this is part of an amazing moment
of time. The prints were five dollars each, or six for 25 dollars.

MS. BERMAN: Still, in ‘46.

MR. COLE: 1946. It went on through to 1950. During World War II, if you bought
a War Bond for eighteen dollars and seventy five cents, which at maturity was
25 dollars, you still would get your six prints.

Once the supplement was finished, it would be accompanied by an order form,
separate, and a return envelope. So those three pieces would go into an envelope.
The mailing room – Well, before we got to the mailing room, I would discuss
with Estelle and Reeves who were we going to mail this to? We certainly were
going to mail it to the purchaser list. The purchaser list consisted of those
people who had purchased prints. But besides having a purchaser list, we also
had a remove purchaser list. You must realize, by 1946, people had been buying
since 1934. Now, every so often – three years, five years – we would
take the purchaser list and call it remove purchaser, or RP. RP-1, RP- 2, RP-3.
Meant remove purchaser. We would mail to the remove purchaser list. And every
time they bought, their stencil – These were metal –

MS. BERMAN: A mailing list label?

MR. COLE: Mail address labels. Done in metal. They would be punched out in
a machine. We would remove that name and make them purchasers. So after a supplement
would go out, let’s say we had only 500 purchasers, and several thousand
remove purchasers. Eventually, we would weed out from the RP-3 list all the
people that may’ve bought the one print for a wedding present, and never
again. So we kept the purchaser list as active as possible. Otherwise –

As it was, the purchaser list – And here, I am not completely positive
on figures. But I do know that we would mail – especially, like a Christmas
catalogue or something, or a Christmas card catalogue, 50,000 people. And our
total mailing list grew to well over a 100,000, if you counted the remove purchasers.
I don’t recall what postage was. We used third class mail. So it obviously
was the least expensive way to mail, but we had a mailing room on 42nd Street,
between Eighth and Ninth Avenue, which I was in charge of. There was a woman
there named Marguerite Bright [ph], who ran the mailing room. And she would
address all the envelopes. I’d say, “Address the P list and the
RP-3.” So she’d address them all. It’d be a 25, 30 000 mailing.

Then I would, of course, have the catalogues and the order forms and the envelopes
all printed. They all go to the mailing room. Then we would get day people in,
pieceworkers, that would pick up the envelope, pick up the order form, throw
it in the thing, throw it in the envelope, seal everything. Moving faster than
hands could – I mean amazing. They – they – A pieceworker
would do 10,000 pieces in a day! Wonderful people. Crazy group of people. I
just remember being in awe. And they sat at long tables with sort of sides,
and just bang-bang-bang, bang-bang-bang, bang-bang-bang, all day long. And they
would be paid so much per thousand. And again, unfortunately, I have no memory
of – But it was so little. Maybe five dollars a thousand would’ve
been a lot. You know, probably was about right. And that would be the story
of the patron supplement. Then every so often, we’d have a new product.
I remember we had a bust of Roosevelt. And I still remember the return envelopes
being filled with excrement and stuff like that. People that didn’t approve
of our bust of Roosevelt. I know we had a bust of Lincoln.

Then, in order to get new people onto our mailing list that didn’t know
about Associated American Artists, we would advertise. And Schwab and Beatty
was our advertising agency, a very well known advertising agency. And they also
were the advertising agency for a new startup company called Harry Abrams. And
also for George Macy’s Book of the Month Club, which had been well established.
Those were sort of the real culture gang then. Of course, the publicity that
Associated American Artists got was constant. Because not only did we have the
print program, but by ‘40 – the middle forties, we were showing
George Grosz, we were showing Sigmund Menkes, Doris Lee, Arnold Blanch, all
the roster of 60 artists that we represented exclusively. Raphael Soyer, Chaim
Gross, on and on and on. And in addition to my doing the supplements, I would
also be doing the gallery catalogues for these things. And when I came aboard,
we also had a gallery in Chicago, which I closed in ‘47, myself. I –
I went out to liquidate – Can’t believe these things.

Anyway, following the mail order program, trying to have some sense of logic
for what I’m saying – We would advertise in the New Yorker or the
New York Times. We would take full pages in the Times magazine section saying,
“Is your home picture poor?” [MS. BERMAN Laughs] You know, “You
can own original works of art for only five dollars.” And we’d key
the ads with a coupon. The coupon would come into our gallery. We wouldn’t
even open it. It would say, “Box NYT6, NYT4, New York Times, or NY –”
Whatever. We had all these codes. All of it would go to the mailroom, who would
tally what came in from each ad. And they would then send out a catalogue, rather
than a supplement. And a catalogue looked like this.

Now, this is one I did, six-oh-five. And what it would consist of would be
all the prints that we had put in our supplements that hadn’t sold out.
So we would then re-catalogue it, and hopefully, eventually sell out. Eventually,
this catalogue would become obsolete, because we’d be selling out too
many and it was silly. We’d mark – we’d have a rubber stamp.
And we’d write, “Edition exhausted,” stamp it right over the
picture.

MS. BERMAN: I shouldn’t get off the subject, but I just was flipping
through this catalogue, and I see you’ve got a print by Arthur Danto in
there?

MR. COLE: Oh, yeah.

MS. BERMAN: I didn’t know that Arthur was a printmaker.

MR. COLE: Oh, yeah!

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm, with AAA. That’s fascinating.

MR. COLE: I— I met Arthur when he was still sort of an artist, and before
he became the critic-philosopher.

MS. BERMAN: Right.

MR. COLE: And that little print on top – Let me look at that again. Yeah,
the little one on top as one of – Oh, did that sell! I think that’s
Susie, his daughter.

MS. BERMAN: Well, it’s a child –

MR. COLE: Yeah. Well, those weren’t all five – those were now ten
dollar prints, you see. That happened when I took over in ‘58.

MS. BERMAN: Ok, well, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I –

MR. COLE: That’s alright, but it gave you the flavor of what we were
doing.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. Well, it’s also a name I – I did not expect
to see there, so it’s – it’s very eclectic. Anyway, this mailroom
operation sounds absolutely –

MR. COLE: It was amazing. Then we would cut a stencil on these – And
these were NPs, new purchasers. And we’d have an NP-1, 2, 3. Because every
year, those who had never bought would become obsolete. We would mail them occasionally,
just hoping they would nibble back. And everything was coded on the order forms,
on the stencils, so that when the order forms came in, we would analyze –
The letter P at the bottom right of the order form would mean it’s a purchaser.
Then we’d check on the NPs and the non-purchasers and remove purchasers.
So we would know what lists, and the cost of mailing, and whether it was worth
mailing to a list like that, and what they were really interested in. It was
really fascinating, in a sense, the scale at which we were operating back in
1946, ‘7, ‘8, ‘9.

MS. BERMAN: Well, to think there would be fifty to a hundred thousand people,
not just the population being smaller, but the group who would be interested
in art, the pool was much smaller.

MR. COLE: Oh, yes. We’d rent our lists and get money for that, through
Book of the Month Club, or to some record company or something like that. We’d
always see what the mailing was before we’d ok that. But you have to realize
that that operation was one of three parts of Associated American Artists. The
reason – I know that operation. Besides my doing the catalogues for the
gallery and the mail, getting the artists, selecting the works, which I worked
with them on, keeping records of ads, and placing ads, and all this, besides
– Well, usually, the placing of ads, we’d have a budget come in
from Schwab and Beatty, and they’d say, “This is for September through
December,” for 1947. And it’d be approved, and they’d take
over from there.

But I also was Mary Ashland. Mary Ashland was the lady that you wrote to for
all your problems or all your correspondence. And anything to do with mail order,
I would get. And I would have a secretary, to whom I’d dictate. We didn’t
have machines; or if we did, we didn’t use ‘em. And I’d dictate
answers to these – I’d probably answer ten, fifteen letters a day.
Eventually, it got so big we hired somebody to do Mary Ashland correspondence.

I would also have museums come in to look at our prints. I remember Bill Lieberman
getting a supplement and coming in and buying a few of these five dollars prints
for the Museum of Modern Art. A lot of the Rockefeller family started buying
prints there. Sandy Smith still swears that his first thing art – work
of art he ever bought, he bought from AAA. And when I’m at a fair, I guarantee
at least 50 or 100 people come up to me during the course of a fair and say,
“I bought my first print.” And there’s no question that it
started so many people collecting. And of course, in the forties, people collected
because they couldn’t afford paintings. So we’d lose collectors
as the affluent, more affluent disappeared. But we had a real core of steady
collectors. Prints was what they wanted, and that’s all they wanted. And
of course, I lived – have lived through the days where the print is no
longer a second class citizen now, thanks to people like Picasso and [Marc]
Chagall and Jasper Johns and a few others.

But I was saying the AAA was divided into three major parts. One was the mail
order. Two was the gallery and the gallery operation. And the third was called
special services. And that is when we would try to get corporations to use art
in some way or another. Like Brown and Bigelow, a calendar. Or playing cards.
I can remember Grant Wood playing cards of the fruits and the vegetables and
the wild flowers on the playing cards. I can remember Grant Wood placemats.
Reeves was incredibly creative. I mean, he went on the Medici role of art was
– could be used anywhere. I think the most brilliant thing he came up
with was using art as a publicity vehicle for department stores. And I think
the first one was in St. Louis, Scruggs, Vandervoort, [and] Barney, for a hundred
thousand dollars. It was a huge amount of money! I mean, in one fell swoop,
a hundred thousand dollars, they would get fifteen or twenty artists that would
go into Missouri and would paint aspects. I remember Lawrence Beall Smith did
the city; Aaron Bohrod did St. Louis; Peter Hurd did the ranches and the center
part. We wanted to get Benton to do something and he – That was our falling
out with Benton. Benton felt: How can a guy from Chicago paint Missouri? He
wouldn’t know Missouri. And he – It made all the newspapers, that
the whole project was a farce, getting people from New York and all this around
the country to come in and try to interpret what Missouri was, and only Missouri
artists should really be used. And then Reeves kinda said, “That means
if you have an opera, you want only Missouri singers; if you have a concert,
you want only Missouri musicians. How ridiculous this is.”

Anyway, Benton was pooh-poohed in the long run. And they would then get a total
of about sixty, eighty paintings, plus all the preparatory drawings. And this
would circulate throughout their state. And reams of publicity! I mean, any
time it got to a college, a university, a museum or whatever, it was reviewed,
it was this. Scruggs, Vandervoort, Barney Collection, their collection, their
collec – So for their hundred thousand dollars, they got almost a million
dollars worth of advertising.

And the next buyer was JL Hudson in Detroit, and the last was Gimbel’s
in Pennsylvania. And I have a feeling that at that point, guys like Jackson
Pollock, Mark Rothko, Franz Kline, and a few others, were suddenly becoming
noticed. And somewhere around ‘49 or ‘50, the American scene, and
the artists represented by AAA just were no longer of any interest whatsoever.
It just stopped. Where every museum in the country had been buying – We
had gotten all the top prizes at the Pennsylvania Academy Annual or the National
Academy Annuals, all our artists were all represented. The Library of Congress,
they had their Pennel fund and had annuals. And out of the ten top prints selected
for prizes, six would be AAA five dollar prints. It –

But when it died, it died. And somewhere around – I’m trying to
remember. I think I left AAA in fifty – I’d have to look up records,
but I – I think I left AAA around 1950, which I don’t put in my
bio. And I went to work in the menswear business for five years. AAA was taken
over by Albert Landry. And – Well, actually, Reeves struggled with it
for several years. Oh, what am I saying? I went back in ‘58. So it must’ve
been ‘53 that I left. Can’t imagine what happened in those late
forties, early fifties. The mail order did stay up pretty well, and there was
business there. But I went in the menswear business, which my father was in;
and five years later, I took over AAA. Reeves was then the president of a greeting
card company called Russkraft. And he called me to come back to Associated American
Artists in 1958. And life begins at forty; that’s how old I was. And what
did I take over? I took over a mailing room at 42nd Street. I took over 17,000
unsold five dollar prints. – And that’s it.

All the paintings and everything else belonged to Albert Landry, who was running
Associated American Artists. So suddenly, there were two Associated American
Artists. There was the print department, and there was Albert. And Albert finally
just changed it to the Albert Landry Gallery, because it was stupid. And Reeves
evidently owned the name Associated American Artists. And I started from nothing.
I rented a floor-through at 605 Fifth Avenue. I seem to remember something like
seven or eight thousand a year. And – hung in the front gallery –
I had two offices, and then a gallery space. I hung some of the old AAA prints.
And then I had a shipping room, and then a mailing room in back. I consolidated;
we gave up 42nd Street, so I consolidated everything.

And then I started contacting artists. I got a hold of Luigi Lucioni; I remember
Raphael Soyer, Joe Hirsch. I remember having – At this point, all these
artists had their own different galleries. Lucioni was with Milch; Hirsch was
with Herman Baron at ACA; Soyer was at ACA, I think.

MS. BERMAN: Yeah, ‘cause Bella started at ACA, right?

MR. COLE: Oh, yeah. And then she took Soyer when she formed Bischoff. Anyway,
I contacted the artists. And I printed editions of 250, ten dollars; I put out
my first catalogue. And it was very well received, and we were in business.
Actually, we never lost money. Even in 1958, I managed to pay the salaries and
pay the rent and make a few dollars. So anyhow –

And then as it grew, I went to Europe – about 1959, ‘60, I took
my first trip – and would buy Chagalls and [Auguste] Renoirs, Picassos,
God knows what all. I remember I have a diary of my first trip, of which I spent
seven thousand dollars. [Laughs] God, I’d buy a single print today and
don’t think about it. And brought back multiples of things; so twenty
Renoir re-strikes, twenty of this, twenty of that. And catalogued, and I got
some [James McNeill] Whistlers from Harry Katz, and that went around. And added
on a whole new dimension in our catalogues. But I must – Ah, you see,
this is the trouble with trying to do this from memory; you miss things, and
it’s hard to track back.

But in 1947, I think it was, we put out a special catalogue, which contained
Rembrandts, Whistlers, [Albrecht] Durers, [Jean Baptiste-Camille] Corot, [Jean-Francois]
Millet, Picasso and Lautrec. And I – I must try to dig that up and find
for you, because it’s fascinating to see the prices. But those catalogues,
I remember I went to Bill Collins, who subsequently became director of the Clark
Museum, but Bill was at Knoedler’s, and asked if I could have a Rembrandt
to catalogue. And he’s sitting in front of a counter, almost that big,
and he says, “Which one do you want? These are all Rembrandts.”
I mean, I’m not exaggerating, five, ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty to forty
solander boxes filled with Rembrandts. And I said, “I have no idea. Something
like a hundred dollars, maybe.” So I remember the first one was a Gold
Weigher, a little print. And he showed me six of them. And this was 75 dollars,
this was a 90, this was a hundred and twenty five, this was a hundred and twenty
five, this was two hundred and fifty. I said, “How can they all have different
prices?” He said, “Look at them!” [MS. BERMAN Laughs] And,
you know, “Don’t you see, this is very late and light, and this
is crisp, this is perfect.” Anyway, I borrowed a hundred and twenty five
dollar one. I think he gave me fifty dollars off on sale. And it was catalogued
among all the others I mentioned. And I remember getting a call from Michigan,
“I wanna buy that Rembrandt.”

MS. BERMAN: Who did you get it from?

MR. COLE: Somebody in Michigan.

MS. BERMAN: Oh.

MR. COLE: What excitement! We had a sold a print by mail for a hundred and
twenty five dol – And a Rembrandt! Then, shortly thereafter, hour later,
I get another call. So I call up Bill Collins. I said, “Do you have another
I could have for a hundred and twen –” “Yes.” Third
call, fourth call; finally, he said, “Mr. Cole, Rembrandt is dead, you
know.” [MS. BERMAN Laughs] Yeah, but – Those catalogues were really
seminal. While some of the auction houses in Europe had been auctioning this
material from the 1900s or earlier, nobody had ever gone to customers, private
like this, across the country. And that was some excitement.

In 1959, ‘60, I sort of formed a umbrella called Associated International
Artists, which then allowed me to start publishing artists from all over the
world, as well as some of the stars. I remember going to Curt Valentin to get
a Rembrandt— a Picasso. Just gotten in one of Three Graces. And
he got five of them, because he was on the Picasso distribution, 50 edition.
And he said, “How many of these do you want?” And I said, “Well,
I’d like one to catalogue.” I said, “How much is it?”
And he said “75 dollars.” I said, “That much?” I didn’t
sell one! And I brought it back to him and I said, “I’m sorry, we
didn’t sell it.” He said, “Why don’t you buy it? I’ll
let you have it for 35 dollars.” And I said, “I don’t have
the money.” That print today is probably eight to twelve, fifteen thousand
dollars. Yeah. But I was selling Chagalls for 80 dollars, the large suite Picassos
for a hundred, a hundred and a quarter. Yeah. And usually, you could get three
or four of the same print.

MS. BERMAN: So the audience was growing more sophisticated. You know?

MR. COLE: That was the beginning of the print boom, the sixties. That was the
beginning of the artist making larger prints, selling them for 25, 40, 50. [Gabor]
Peterdi, [Mauricio] Lasansky. It was a period where the printmakers had their
own world; they had the biennial in Brooklyn every year – or the annual
in Brooklyn every year. And they did fine. It was – it was a moment of
time that – And Associated American Artists’ only competition was
Weyhe Gallery, which by the way, is right up here. When [Carl] Zigrosser was
there and – Well, maybe he left. I think – I forget her name. But,
you know – And of course, Weyhe had [Georges] Rouaults and Chagalls and
all that material, too. And Downtown Gallery had people like Stuart Davis, Curt
Valentin had [Lyonel] Feininger. Feiningers were fifteen bucks a pieces; Stuart
Davises were fifteen dollars. And Edith [Halpert] – And she also had [Rinaldo]
Cuneo; she – she never showed them. Never. She was too busy trying to
sell a drawing for a hundred bucks.

Anyway, I’ve gotten us up to about the early sixties.

MS. BERMAN: That’s what you think. [Laughs] So I actually – I wanna
track back – I mean, I’m only gonna – Let me see how –
I wonder if this might –

MR. COLE: I know I have to stop in about ten minutes, because I have somebody
coming to look [MS. BERMAN: Right] at some Milton Avery.

What I’ll try to do between now and the next time is start putting together
some of these catalogues and just giving ‘em to you for the Archives.
You might have ‘em; I don’t know.

MS. BERMAN: Well, some of the Associated American Artist papers were microfilmed,
so we may; but it’s – it’s fine to have some –

MR. COLE: Well, these are the physical catalogues that were published, and
I’ve got a stack of ‘em; I’ll put ‘em together, and
you decide what you wanna keep or what you don’t.

MS. BERMAN: Why – why did Reeves Lewenthal leave the gallery?

MR. COLE: I think Reeves was – There just wasn’t enough money in
it. I think rents started up. I mean, I think we were renting 711 Fifth for
something like ten thousand a year. Today that space would be close to a million.
I think the artists were getting dissatisfied. There weren’t sales, they
weren’t making money. Reeves had literally supported these artists. He
– One of our biggest clients was Abbott Laboratories. And they put out
a publication called What’s New, on medical things. And it was
probably one of the outstanding medical publications put out by a pharmaceutical
company. And the illustrations. If a woman was taking a certain pill because
she was pregnant, there’d be a Raphael Soyer woman, pregnant woman, and
all these, and— and fees were gotten for all this.

Abbott stopped. There was no more future in the department store thing; it
had sort of run its course or the energy wasn’t there. And the art world
changed. And he [Lewenthal] went into various things. He went into – He
wore so many hats, he – First was the gallery. He started when he was
24 years old. He was a public relations guy. He – he represented, I think,
a guy named [Douglas] Chandor, who was the world’s famous portrait artist
at the time.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, he [Douglas Chandor] did Roosevelt; he did all the hands of
Roosevelt down in the National Portrait Gallery.

MR. COLE: Well, Reeves was his public relations guy. And he was doing so well,
you know – Early twenties, he was making deposits in his bank of fifty
and a hundred and two hundred dollars at a time. You know, what’s he doing?
And then he took ill. And I think for several months – And then he conceived
the five dollar idea. 1934, the height of the Depression. And his insurance
man put up the money, and became an albatross too, because – His name
was Mory [ph] – I just heard from a daughter. It won’t come to me.

Anyway, Reeves had to pay him off every month. Reeves, of course, lived a fairly
flamboyant life. He had a beautiful apartment on 71st and Madison, in that apartment
house that goes from 70th to 71st on the east side of the street. And I know
Harry Abrams lived in that building. I remember some member of the New Deal
cabinet was in that building, friends of my parents. And he had a country place.
But when things tightened up, he had divorced his wife, and he – he just
retrenched, and he went into this greeting card business, and then he dropped
that after a while; he went into mining, coal mining, West Virginia. And when
he died, that’s what he was doing. But, you know, he was a good friend
of the Alan brothers. In fact, the memorial services for Reeves was held in
their office.

MS. BERMAN: The Alan brothers?

MR. COLE: Charlie Alan and – multi-trillionaires, you know. They’re
still around. One of the – one of the sons runs some big motion picture
company. Oh, there was a whole thing in the magazine section of the Times years
ago about this very quiet family. I – I’ve been to those offices
with Reeves. It was in 711 Fifth. On the fourth or fifth floor. They had the
entire floor. And it was their personal trading floor. With people at [inaudible]
desks and all the – Amazing. Wealth, real wealth. [Phone rings]

MS. BERMAN: I think that this is probably a good time to stop.

MR. COLE: Ok.

[BEGIN TAPE TWO, SIDE ONE]

MS. BERMAN: This is Avis Berman, continuing the oral history with Sylvan Cole
on July 11th, 2000, at his gallery at 101 West 57th Street.

And we will be going back to the early days of Associated American Artists.
But first, I think we need a little bit of biographical housekeeping first,
which is would you state the names of your wives, when you were married and
when you were divorced, the second one, when you were married and, you know,
when she died, the third one, and – and the names, and when your children
were born.

MR. COLE: Oh, dear. I don’t have this to memory. I was married in –
first time, in May 1942. Or it could’ve been ‘43. At Fort Washington,
Maryland. I was at that post called Fort Washington. And it was along the Potomac,
and it is the fort that supposedly the guns were spiked when the Washington
– when the British came up to sack Washington. We got married in a chapel
there. I marred Vivian Vanderpool, V-A-N-D-E-R P-O-O-L, who was born in Norman,
Oklahoma. And she had been working in Washington with the OSS, Office of Strategic
Services, and was working with “Wild Bill” Donovan, who was the
general in charge. And all of whatever she was doing was top secret.

Nancy Cole was born in Fort Sam Houston Texas, at Brooke General Hospital,
in 1945. Right, 1945. In May. And the second child, Robert Vanderpool Cole,
was born in New Rochelle, New York in March of 1947. And the youngest, James
Michael Cole, was born in Port Chester, New York in March of 1949. I was divorced
from Vivian in 1952. A Mexican divorce. Flew down with my wife-to-be, Lillyan.
And we were each divorced from our respective spice [MS. BERMAN Laughs] in Tijuana,
and married by the same judge.

Lillyan died in October 1987, and in December of 1998, I married Mary Rowena
Myers, M-Y-E-R-S, in New York at a Catholic chapel on First Avenue and 55th
Street.

MS. BERMAN: What was Lillyan’s maiden name?

MR. COLE: Spurber [ph] – No, that was her married name.

MS. BERMAN: Spurber was her married name.

MR. COLE: Yeah, what was her maiden name? It’ll come to me later.

MS. BERMAN: Ok. Now, did Lillyan have anything to do with the art world?

MR. COLE: Lillyan, I met at Associated American Artists. She was assistant
to Reeves Lewenthal, who was the founder and director. And we fell in love and
that was what happened. And she had studied painting under Leo Calapai, who
was a Chicago artist and who died in Chicago; but Leo taught at Columbia, and
Lillyan had taken courses there. Lillyan’s name, by – spelling is
L-I-L-L-Y-A-N.

MS. BERMAN: Now, besides Lillyan, I want to go back and talk about –
You had mentioned some of the people you had worked with at Associated American
Artists, but I kind of wanna go into what they did and sort of who they came
from, what their, you know, their contributions were and –

MR. COLE: Well, the founder of Associated American Artists was Reeves Lewenthal.
Reeves was just a brilliant publicist and public relations person. He –
At about the age of 23 or ‘4 was the agent for the most important portrait
painter of the time, named Douglas Chandor. I’m not sure of his spelling,
but I think it’s C-H-A-N-D-O-R.

MS. BERMAN: That’s correct.

MR. COLE: And he was, oh, a society painter and portrait painter of that time.
And Reeves did public – He had come from Rockford, Illinois, and had news
background, public relations background, and hit New York, got this job with
Chandor. And whether this is apocryphal or not, I’m not sure, but supposedly,
Reeves took ill, spent quite some time in the hospital, and during that period
of 1933, ‘34, conceived the idea of Associated American Artists. It was
the height of the Depression. He felt that the one work of art that people could
afford across the country was an etching or a lithograph or a woodcut, priced
at five dollars. And he then proceeded to contact, when he got out of the hospital,
a group of artists, who met with him and formed Associated American Artists.

I don’t really know – Somewhere in the archives are the various
artists that he met with. I have a feeling it was Arnold Blanch, Doris Lee –
whether [Thomas Hart] Benton, [John Steuart] Curry and Wood met at that time
or were subsequently contacted – But they were artists from Woodstock,
from Manhattan and in New York and that area. And they all agreed to make prints.
And Reeves then peddled them to Marshall Field in Chicago, to Thalheimer’s
in Virginia. I think Altman’s was the outlet in New York. And he did that
for, I guess, 1934. And they ran ads in the newspapers, “You can own an
original work of art for only five dollars by America’s foremost artists.”

Anyway, at that point, he discovered that while the sales in Altman’s
were unbelievable – to my knowledge, they – again, might be apocryphal
– that they sold out the first two days, all the prints that were allotted
to them. However, Thalheimer’ s in Virginia, or some department store,
after several months, marked them down to three dollars and Reeves couldn’t
tolerate that. So he didn’t think that was the way to sell these works
of art, so he decided to go into it by direct mail. And he produced the first
catalogue of works that had been commissioned by Associated American Artists.
All were to be in editions of 250, though at the time, not full editions were
printed; and some never sold too well, so the editions were a hundred and six,
a hundred and eighteen. And they also could’ve been numbers that Reeves
pulled out of his hat.

And this catalogue was started by – it was promoted by an ad in the New
York Times Magazine, which was a small ad. But according to Reeves, the figures
– again, apocryphal, possibly – they got 9,000 responses, and sent
out 9,000 catalogues, and they were in business. And with his ability of –
of promotion, the press was unbelievable. The press books, I think, may have
been turned over to the archives or destroyed, but I do think I did, years and
years back, when I discovered them. And these were clipping books that were
kept of every single thing. And they even had a clipping service that would
send them the clippings of anything said about Associated American Artists.

I think it was around 1939 that Reeves decided to open a public gallery. Up
until then, they had been all mail order; and then they had a small showroom
on Madison and 49th Street or so, so people could come in and see the prints,
which were all framed, in the little showroom they had. And the price was five
dollars, six for 25 dollars. In ‘39, they opened a gallery at 711 Fifth
Avenue, with a huge brouhaha. And the opening exhibition was Thomas Hart Benton.

MS. BERMAN: Well, you know, in your – I agree. You’re telling me
this, all about, you know, this promotional genius. You have not mentioned –
did he have an aesthetic sense? Did he have an eye? I mean, what was he like
as any kind of responder to art?

MR. COLE: He had an instinct. He was not a discoverer of talent. He –
Art was a vehicle. This is not meant to denigrate him in anyway. He –
he got on wonderfully well with the artists. He could charm any of them. He
was an absolutely charming person. I mean, he – And there were times when
they’d be a pain in the neck to him, and he’d avoid them. And he’d
be in conference, or he’d be out.

The offices at 711 Fifth were extraordinary. They had a huge gallery space
on two levels, a mezzanine and an upper floor. And then surrounding this area
of gallery were Reeves’ office, which was right at the corner of 55th
Street and Fifth Avenue. The St. Regis [Hotel] was across the street. And his
office was at the corner. Then there was a vice-president’s office –
at least when I got there – which was occupied by Robert Parsons, who
had just come out of the Navy and had run the art program for the Navy, and
was very familiar with many of the artists. A true gentleman. Very unassuming
person, very kind. But truly a gentleman. Between Bob’s office and Estelle
Mandel’s office – And Estelle Mandel started with Reeves. She started
in ‘34 or ‘35, and she, too, had – was a dynamo. And Estelle’s
office was in between where the two secretaries sat. And then came my office,
which was vacant when I got my job; or who had it before, I have no idea. And
then came a large area, which was sort of secretarial, reception, and accounting.
And then came all the shipping area and back office of racks for pictures and
stuff like that.

MS. BERMAN: Huge space!

MR. COLE: Oh, it – I mean, I would just – Off the top of my head,
it was ten or twelve thousand feet. It was the size of Marlborough today. It
was one of the largest square foot galleries, I guess. It was the entire second
floor of this building, which was 711 Fifth, which today has, I think, the Coca-Cola
and Warner Brothers or Disney –

MS. BERMAN: How did – how did Reeves pick the artists?

MR. COLE: They just accumulated.

MS. BERMAN : [Laughs]

MR. COLE: Mostly artist to artist to artist. I mean, the whole Woodstock gang,
which was Ethel Magafan, Eddie Millman, Arnold Blanch, Doris Lee – I think
Sigmund Menkes was up there. One of the great things we had – persons
we had in the gallery was a woman named Pegeen Sullvian. And Pegeen was just
a household name in the American art world. She was director of the gallery.
And she also was very close to George Grosz. In fact, I still think some of
the nudes that George Grosz painted were Pegeen. Especially up in the cape.

But Pegeen also got a lot of the foreign artists – Sigmund Menkes, Joseph
Floch, George Grosz – just because she was acquainted with so many of
the artists. And Marion Greenwood, for example, knew – Her portrait was
painted by [Alexander] Calder, by [Max] Beckmann, by goodness knows how many
artists. She was just a most gorgeous, gorgeous woman, and – My feeling
when I got there was just in awe of all these artists. The roster was roughly
60 artists, which was a huge roster of artists. And all of them were established;
they were not naive or beginning artists. Raphael Soyer, Chaim Gross –
just on and on. And they were all basically representational. But these artists,
this roster won all the prizes. They won the gold medals in Chicago and the
gold medals in Philadelphia, the gold medals at the National Academy. It was
a lock – And the only artists that were not part of Associated American
Artists were those in the stable of Edith Halpert. And they were the avant garde,
which was a little ahead of what Associated American Artists was. They had Stuart
Davis, they had Ben Shahn, [Louis] Gugliemi.

MS. BERMAN: Rattner.

MR. COLE: Who?

MS. BERMAN: I think she had Rattner.

MR. COLE: Abe Rattner. Well, she also had Jack Levine.

MS. BERMAN: Right, and she had [Charles] Sheeler.

MR. COLE: And, but she did have Sheeler, and – That’s right. And
– But the Downtown Gallery, I don’t remember being a big deal, for
some reason. It may be I was prejudiced in those late forties years of AAA.
But you know, it was such – ‘46, when I got there – ‘46,
‘47, ‘48 were unbelievable years. I mean, the gallery was constantly
busy. The artists were begging for work. Beyond just the easel paintings and
the graphics. I mean, there was a – The gallery had paintings. The gallery
also had a small section for the prints that were being published in the five
dollar program. The gallery also was commissioning artists to do works or renderings
for people like Abbott Laboratories, or fabrics, a big – Lowenstein Fabrics
– Aaron Bohrod did a repeat pattern, sort of a trompe l’oeil pattern.
And it sold thousands of yards! And it was the first time that there was a royalty
on yards per sold. I mean, this was Reeves’ genius. He was able to use
art anywhere. Lampshades, neckties, playing cards, calendars. He – Anything
that he could – Placemats. Anything that he could use – He would
go to these manufacturers and say, “It’s prestige for you to do
this, or that, or the other thing.” And they would then get the copyrights
and – or the reproduction rights for quite a fee, which the gallery would
then take its third, or 40% commission, and the balance would go to the artist.
And artists were begging for commissions. I mean, there were letters –
I can recall artists like George Schreiber saying, “I’d love to
– I can use the money; can I get something from Abbot Laboratory?”
And George would get some sort of pittance of a job to do. I would say that
thinking back as to who art – which artists really became great, great
American artists, beyond Benton, Curry and Wood, there were not very many. Certainly,
George Grosz. But he was part of the foreign contingent, refugee contingent.
Adolph Dehn, [Arnold] Blanch, [Doris] Lee. History’s gonna have to see
what happens to some of them. Joe Hirsch. I’m sure – Again in the
archives, I can remember lists being published of the roster of Associated American
Artists. It was during my time – When I got there, there was a gallery
in Chicago; and then subsequently, they opened a gallery in Beverly Hills. The
Chicago gallery, I think, was closed around 1947 or ‘48, because it was
not doing that well. And the theory being that people in Chicago did not wanna
buy art in Chicago, they wanted to come to New York to buy art. And they closed
that gallery. In California, the whole Hollywood contingent was gathered together
for various boards or whatever and – I don’t know, I remember King
Vidor, I remember, oh – Trying to think of –

Reeves also then got involved with bringing in some of the Impressionists and
perhaps one of the most famous – And again, I won’t remember everything,
but the theory is that he did discover this[Vincent] Van Gogh of a self-portrait.
Self-portrait by Candlelight. He’s in a bar, the car broke down, he’s
lighting a cigarette; and there is this Van Gogh by – completely Reeves’
story.

MS. BERMAN: I don’t quite understand it. He found a Van Gogh?

MR. COLE: In Eur – in France.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, in France.

MR. COLE: Outside of Paris.

MS. BERMAN: And his car broke down –

MR. COLE: Car broke down.

MS. BERMAN: So he couldn’t get –

MR. COLE: He goes into a bar to make a phone call, he lights up, and there
he sees this painting.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. Did he buy it?

MR. COLE: He bought it, brings it back. And I’m trying to remember who
bought it. He became very friends with Dr. [Jacob] de la Faille. And Dr. de
la Faille authenticated it, and he was the expert. And there were other experts
– Sandburg or somebody – says it wasn’t a real – It’s
an amazing story. I think the painting was sold to some California major magnate.
I – Eugene Salberg or something like that [the painting was actually sold
to William Goetz].

MS. BERMAN: Irving Salberg.

MR. COLE: Irving Salberg. I wish I – I can’t remember what –
But when it got questioned, he returned it, and it was in the lawyer’s
office. Guy named Ross; I can’t remember his first name. Roth or Ross.
Who was an attorney for Associated American Artists. And a secretary opened
a file drawer and tore the painting. So the painting was sent to Holland for
restoration. And – Then it was a question when it came back. Duty? No
duty? What’s the story? So according – Then the U.S. government
tried – used the first chemical tests on a painting and found that the
pigments were of the time of Van Gogh, and since he died penniless, who would
fake a Van Gogh? Especially a self-portrait? So to this day, I don’t know
whether it’s real or not. I mean, I – I don’t know if it’s
accepted; I don’t even know where it is.

MR. COLE: I don’t know; it’d be interesting. But this was just
giving you the breadth of Reeves. I mean, he started getting paintings all the
way from Cezanne to Van Gogh to feed his Hollywood clients.

MS. BERMAN: Well, just out of curiosity, now, it – You know, a lot of
these artists had other – were represented by other galleries, had other
dealers; but it was alright – they were allowed –

MR. COLE: Oh, no, they were exclusively AAA.

MS. BERMAN: Really? Ok, there was –

MR. COLE: It was sort of a pirating thing. I mean, he got Soyer, Hirsch from
Herman Baron at ACA [American Contemporary Artists]. I mean, there were many
dealers that – Well, whether they volunteered to leave or they were coerced
– I have a feeling everybody wanted to be with AAA. They were making money
as artists. ‘Cause Reeves – They were not, to my knowledge, on retainers.
But Reeves would find ways to either sell their work or promote it through an
exhibition, or use their talents in some commercial way. Like there was Lucky
Strike ran a series of ads of tobacco growing in the fields. And there’s
one of James Chapin; there was a famous one of the guy looking down a leaf.
Benton did a painting of tobacco, Chapin – I don’t know who all.
And I remember Maxwell House Coffee used a whole series of American scene paintings
in their “good to the last drop,” with a cup of coffee, and it’s
dripping down, and a big painting of [Luigi] Lucioni or [George] Schreiber or
somebody.

I mean, this was all going on when I first got there, because Estelle Mandel,
who was the – Bob Parsons became executive vice-president. But Estelle
had been there. And so she was Vice-President in Charge of Special Services.
And Special Services consisted of using art commercially in any – advertising
or any way that it could be used. And she was a wiz at it. I think at that time,
she was working with Ohrbach, and they did a whole series of paintings of New
York, which are now at the Museum of the City of New York. I don’t know
if they ever exhibit them or not; probably individually, they do. But these
were paintings that we used in Ohrbach ads. And then assembled as a collection,
exhibited, and then turned over to the museum.

And Estelle was working on that. It would be interesting to know the finances
of that period, but I don’t. I mean, I have a feeling two to three thousand
dollars for a painting in an ad was really good money.

MS. BERMAN: Did Estelle have an art background?

MR. COLE: Somewhat. Public school and Hunter. A real dynamo person. Big woman.
Wonderful. I mean, she was my boss, and I adored her. I mean, she was a very,
very special woman. She was a single lady for a long period of her life. And
then she ended up marrying a guy by the name of Ray Brock, who was a New York
Times foreign correspondent, whose real claim to fame was 1942, ‘3. He
got a double byline on the front page of the New York Times, and he covered
Turkey and Ataturk. And he wrote a book on Ataturk. And he and Estelle had a
stormy marriage. She sort of managed him the way she did so many of the artists.
[MS. BERMAN Laughs] And I remember they – As she got money, she ended
up with a flat in a brownstone, a beautiful flat, on 80th between Madison and
Park. And then with the money from Ataturk, she bought a house in Hillsdale,
New York — a big deck around — and I can remember going up there
and staying as a guest and— and getting a poker game up with people coming
from Woodstock, because it was just across the river, and Fletcher Martin, Julio
de Diego and a group of others all coming over to play poker.

MS. BERMAN: We haven’t discussed Robert Parsons.

MR. COLE: Well, Robert Parsons was sort of, as I say, quiet, dignified. He
was the – I don’t know how to phrase this, but he was the gentile
elegance for Associated American Artists. And Robert would be used as –
in that capacity for the certain types of clients that he would be perfect for.
He married the receptionist at AAA, who was just the doll of the world. Farenhorse
[ph], what was her first name? I still talk to her. And I was an usher at that
wedding. And – This is a real blank I’m pulling; I mean, this is
such a close friend of mine. Her daughter’s Linda.

Anyway, he then got the post of director of the Jacksonville Art Museum, [MS.
BERMAN: The Cummer] which was –

MS. BERMAN: The Cummer Art Gallery?

MR. COLE: No. Jacksonville Museum of Art, or something. And he – It was
in the process of being built. And he went down, it was built, and I think he
died the opening day, or the day before, of a heart attack. And – His
widow still lives in Jacksonville; I still keep up with her. I’m just
so amazed that I can’t get a first name out. We were all so close, and
–

MS. BERMAN: Did Parsons have an art background, or –?

MR. COLE: Yes.

MS. BERMAN: Of course –

MR. COLE: He had an art background, and he ran the art program for the Navy
[MS. BERMAN: Oh, that’s right.] in World War II.

MS. BERMAN: Was that combat artists, or –?

MR. COLE: Combat artists.

MS. BERMAN: In the Navy –

MR. COLE: Yeah, he commissioned them and sent them to the various places.

MS. BERMAN: You know, going back to – You said you didn’t have
the Edith Halpert artists; well, that’s because you would’ve had
to – You know, she never would’ve given up her –

MR. COLE: Well, she also had Hofmann, I think. Hans Hofmann, yeah. No, she
didn’t.

MS. BERMAN: She never had Hans Hofmann.

MR. COLE: No, she didn’t have Hofmann.

MS. BERMAN: Hofmann – I don’t think Hofmann had a gallery in the
‘30s.

MR. COLE: Well, there were other good galleries. There was Perido[ph], there
was – That woman, what’s her name? The other one besides Edith.
Elegant woman.

MS. BERMAN: So I – See, what I was trying to get at is that people who
were in Associated Artists were in it totally; they wouldn’t have had
another gallery, so –

MR. COLE: No, they were exclusive.

MS. BERMAN: Exactly. I didn’t know if they just had prints with Associated
American Artists, because –

MR. COLE: Oh, the artists that had prints were freelance. I mean, we did not
put them on our roster, unless they were somebody like Adolph Dehn that also
did lithographs. I think Gordon Grant was on our roster. I know Luigi Lucioni
was on our roster. But there were many, many artists that were doing prints
that maybe did one for us or maybe three and just – That was a separate
– separate operation entirely.

MS. BERMAN: Right, ‘cause I thought that – I’m not sure.
I thought that Lucioni at one point may have been with Milch or Brand[?] or
–

MR. COLE: He was with Milch before he was with AAA, and he went back to Milch.

MS. BERMAN: Right. Now, also, you never had Rockwell Kent?

MR. COLE: No. Nor did we ever commission him on anything. I mean, there were
lots of artists that you’d think we would’ve used that we didn’t.
I don’t know how haphazard it was. I have a feeling that most of the print
thing came with artists bringing in proofs, and going into the proof box. And
if – I don’t know whether Reeves actually pursued some of the other
artists, or whether we’d just pick ‘em up. I mean, I know Ernest
Fiene was on the roster, a painter, and Lily Harmon; they also did prints for
the gallery. Adolph Dehn did.

MS. BERMAN: You know, someone like –

MR. COLE: Even Gwen Lux, who was a sculptor, she did one or two prints for
the program.

MS. BERMAN: So you never had [John] Sloan, for example.

MR. COLE: No, we didn’t have Sloan. We did have Marsh. Marsh did two
prints. We had [Utagawa] Kuniyoshi; he did one – [MS. BERMAN: Oh.] which
was an Edith Halpert artist. [Reginald] Marsh was Rehn.

MS. BERMAN: Right. So that was –

MR. COLE: We never had Sheeler, never Stuart Davis, never Feininger. Oh, there
were –

MS. BERMAN: You had [Louis] Lozowick.

MR. COLE: We had Lozowick. Not on our roster, but as a – just for prints.
Now, who he was with, I have no idea.

But we have [William] Gropper on the roster, and also did prints. Joe Hirsch,
both.

MS. BERMAN: Let’s see. Is there anyone else that we should talk about
who was on, you know, who worked there?

MR. COLE: No, the other – I remember the gallery staff. I remember there
was a fellow named – I just had his name and I lost it. Bobby Price. And
he and Pegeen were a team. They adored each other. And Bobby was part of the
sales in the gallery. I think Pegeen retired. She had a daughter who she felt
needed attention. She was married to a concert violinist, wonderful guy. And
– But Pegeen was the real Bohemian of the world. And when she retired,
a man by the name of George Fortson, F-O-R-T-S-O-N, became gallery director.

I should go back a little, because in 1946, ‘47, shortly after I got
there in March of ‘46, I would say two or three months later, Andre Emmerich
became part of the gallery and worked with me. And the two of us were quasi-mail
order and quasi-promoters. Both of us would go to churches and schools and give
little talks on collecting art. And then shortly thereafter, maybe six months
later or so, Frank Perls joined the gallery. And Frank was just unbelievable.
I mean, I still remember – There was an artist whose name I’ve forgotten
– Reeves would often show artists that were just dreadful. Because the
husband was a big collector, or the husband had this, or the – whatever.
And I remember he showed, in the lower gallery, a woman who did Noah’s
arc. And it had pairs of animals, all going up to it, on each side of the walls,
to the end, which was Noah’s arc. And when Frank was hired, I was to take
him around and introduce him and show him what all the gallery – where
the stacks were, bookkeeping, everything. And I remember when we got down to
the lower gallery – I think her name was Schweibel[ph] or something like
that. And Frank goes around, and so he’s spitting. [Makes spitting sounds]
He’s spitting as he goes down. I was in utter shock. [MS. BERMAN Laughs]
And anyway, Frank ended up taking over the California gallery. And when that
closed, he then was in business for himself out in California.

MS. BERMAN: So that’s how the Frank –

MR. COLE: That’s how the Frank Perls Gallery started. Andre didn’t
stay very long. I think he then went into his pre-Columbian – His family
were diamond merchants or something out of Belgium or Holland, and – Shortly
thereafter, he opened his own gallery and – with the pre-Columbian and
a roster – I think that’s when he got Helen Frankenthaler and a
few other artists.

MS. BERMAN: Well, that’s interesting. I had no idea he was ever in the
mail –

MR. COLE: Well, of course, Helen Frankenthaler was also – did her junior
year at Bennington working at the gallery.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, really?

MR. COLE: Yeah, when I was there.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. Well, what was she like?

MR. COLE: Hardly remember. She was just a little girl. Sat in the gallery desk
and – sort of learning the commercial area of that. I think she did some
odds and ends. You’d have to ask Helen. But that’s – Helen
and I had known each other before, because I knew her older sister Marjorie.
When I was going to Horace Mann, I would know Marjorie or date her, and –
Helen was then just a youngster. [MS. BERMAN: Was she –] Nine years old,
when I –

MS. BERMAN: Was – was Helen painting when – when you met her?

MR. COLE: She was at Bennington [Bennington College, Bennington, Vermont].
I’m sure her junior year she had been painting or was painting.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm.

MR. COLE: I don’t think she ever thought much of the paintings that were
in the gallery in her junior year. I mean, I could almost figure out about when
that was, was probably ‘47, ‘48. I was class of ‘39; she’s
ten years younger than I – So forty – I’m probably right on
the button.

MS. BERMAN: So she was also probably seeing what was going on at Betty Parsons
and all of the other, the – the action –

MR. COLE: I’m sure.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. But that— that did not immediately touch Associated
American Artists, those kinds of – the –

MR. COLE: Didn’t even know it was going on. I was once on a panel for
the 50th anniversary of the Museum of Modern Art. They put together an interesting
panel of – for discussing prints. And I think there was Albert Reese,
myself, Bob Motherwell, and somebody else, I don’t remember. And all I
remember is Bob talking about the [Stanley William] Hayter Atelier 17 in New
York and the interaction of Pollock, Motherwell, all making their first prints.
And I remember saying – We were talking about this era of the forties.
And I remember saying, “I can’t believe that Bob and I were in the
same city.” Because my view of what I was doing in that period of time
was just – I didn’t even know that existed. I mean, I didn’t
know about the Cedar Bar; I didn’t know until years later. Years later.

MS. BERMAN: Well, besides your art, you were also sort of married with several
children. And then also, you probably weren’t hanging out at night.

MR. COLE: No, that’s true. I mean, I did not go to many galleries. I
did go to Knoedler, I did go to Kennedy, those both –

[BEGIN TAPE TWO, SIDE TWO]

MR. COLE: – World War II ended in ’46 and here we are. I’m
fresh out of the service; a lot of the artists are out of the service. A lot
of the established dealers are mostly into European material. Bill Hayter is
in New York, and he’s got a pretty thriving print operation going. He
certainly had a lot of the artists that came to him them. He had – Miró
was here, Chagall was in New York, [Fernand] Leger – No. Was Leger in
New York?

MS. BERMAN: Well, Miró probably could’ve used the money then,
[MR. COLE: Well –] when he was here.

MR. COLE: It was amazing, who he got. I mean, I remember Miró coming
in the gallery. He was a little, short guy. Pixie. Oh, yeah, Reeves –
His – his imagination was endless.

MS. BERMAN: Now, you – did you meet Chagall while he was here?

MR. COLE: No.

MS. BERMAN: Now, when did you become aware of Hayter?

MR. COLE: Probably at AAA in the early sixties. And that’s when I met
him in Paris and – It – I was never – Of all the artists –
As I say, I’m I’m really a – a groupie when it comes to the
artists. But of all the artists that made a friend of me, Bill Hayter was to
me the most important in many ways, because he was the god of the print world.
And he encouraged me, and he worked with me. He took me to the Atelier and I’d
have exhibitions of the students that were there, and commissioned him for prints,
and – It was, until he died, a most fabulous relationship, just –
I mean, I knew him when he was married to Helen Phillips, and then I went through
when he was split, and we were close enough that he’d tell me, you know,
he – He’d say, “Can you buy something of Helen’s,”
you know, or, “Can you do something?” I mean, he really was such
a great human being, and then when he met Desiree [Moorehead] and – I’m
still very close to Desiree and – But Bill Hayter made me feel important
in the print world personally, because of his relationship to me. I –
I really felt that he was the – the – the master and – Here
is the man who taught [Alberto] Giacometti and Picasso and Jackson Pollock and
on and on and on. And – My respect for him never waned.

I remember when Bill was 80, I think they asked me to write part of a tribute
book. And I wrote a rather simple thing, but in there was Roland Penrose and
major writers in this book. And I guess about a year later, Bill was in New
York and we were having dinner or something, and he said, “Oh, by the
way, Sylvan, I forgot to thank you for that nice tribute you wrote.” And
I said, “Oh, Bill, it was nothing.” He says, “Sylvan, I’m
going to do the same thing for you when you’re 80.” He was long
gone. But it was a wonderful thing. Yeah, I think –

I was always very touched with most of the artists. I really cared about them;
we were good social friends. And my life is very charmed. I mean, when I’d
be in Europe, I’d see Francois Gilot, and I’d see a lot of the artists,
both like Michael Rothenstein and Tony Gross. And then in this country, a lot
of the artists were friends. Certainly, because I went to Provincetown and –
We’d be there five minutes, and we’d almost be booked for three
weeks with dinners or lunches or something. Sol Wilson and Dick Florsheim and
that whole gang of – Chaim Gross. I mean, Reenie [ph] had this wonderful
house out in the dunes – still does, I’m sure. And she would entertain
ten, fifteen people twice, three times a week. Collectors or whoever was around,
and dealers and – Usually, it was the most wonderful Jewish lobster or
something. [MS. BERMAN Laughs] I mean, it was really amazing.

I can remember Lily Harmon fixing me a five pound lobster saying, “Now
you’re gonna get all the lobster you ever want in your life,” and
my eating the claws and my eating everything. And finally, I get to the center
of the lobster and I was too full to eat. [Laughs] But –

Then came my first disillusionment, which – I guess this has to all wait
until everybody’s gone. Most of them are gone. But one of my closest friends
was Fletcher Martin. And he was married to a wonderful writer, Jean, and lived
in Woodstock, when I was close enough that I used to stay with him in Woodstock.
He and Jean used to come up and visit us in Provincetown. We had sort of a guest
room. And he’d play endless games of gin rummy with Lillyan and –
who was a card player, loved card playing. The two of them would play for hours.
And Fletcher would slam the cards down and, “Beat me again,” or
something. And –

Then I remember Fletch coming to me one day. I had commissioned him for two
or three prints. They were color screen prints. And then I had him do three
editions of 200 prints each, 600 prints, of women on the beach – different
versions or variants, different images. And they were given free to my sponsor
members. I had 600 sponsor members who gave us a hundred bucks a year. Sixty
thousand dollars, wow. And they had special things, including getting a free
gift. And the reaction to this gift was not good. A lot of them did not care
for it. And some wanted to know if they could exchange for something, and I’d
give ‘em – And I’d say – We had very good clients. They
were all good clients.

I’d say, “Ok, pick a ten dollar print that you’d like instead.”
I’d exchange it. But then Fletch came to me shortly thereafter and wanted
to know about another print. And I remember saying, “Not right now. You
know, I’ve still got a few left of this and a few left of that.”
And that was the end of our friendship. And it was such a shock that I then
understood for the first time that as a dealer, with very few exceptions, the
artist was concerned as long as I could do something for them. And that was
amazing, that it took me so long to learn that lesson. But once learned, I was
very careful about the socializing from then on. I still have artist friends
like Clare Romano and John Ross and Will Barnet from the beginning that are
truly friends. They are not concerned with how much I do for them or whatever.
But even after I left AAA and started on my own, the number of artists that
bothered even to come visit me dropped down to a fraction. I mean, when I was
handling 600 artists over those years, I would say – I would say maybe
I see 30 or 40 out of the 600 anymore. Maybe two and three year spans. That’s
the way it is, I mean – And some artists that I was really close to, I
–

Well, this, I guess, is part of oral history, but I remember Mario Avati, a
French mezzotint artist, whom I met and socialized with because he showed with
the Weyhe Gallery. When the Weyhe Gallery changed and Mario was on his own,
he came to me at AAA. And I checked with Weyhe and I took him on. I think I
commissioned him to do some prints, I don’t remember. But he was a very
well established European artist. And I gave him two shows at AAA. He was very
close to Tom Hoving, who I remember coming in. And they had very good connection
to collectors. And then I think until I left AAA, I bought five of every edition.
And after I left, I saw him a few times; I still see him occasionally. But I
know he was in town two weeks ago with his wife; never called. And I learned
that from a client of mine who buys work from him.

MS. BERMAN: Mario who?

MR. COLE: Avati, A-V-A-T-I.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, ok.

MR. COLE: Mezzotint – Very extraordinary. Makes a fortune selling his
work in Japan. Not well known here. He – Mezzotint is very difficult to
sell in this country. And his prices are pretty high. There was a gallery on
Third Avenue in the Sixties that handled his work and – I don’t
know whether they still do or not.

MS. BERMAN: Why is mezzotint difficult to sell?

MR. COLE: It – it’s very rigid, it – it appeals – It’s
the kind of a print that is cold, rigid and you respect for its incredible black
and whiteness or color, I mean – I don’t know, it’s –
There are a few mezzotint artists today. There’s [inaudible], there’s
Carol Wax. But some do very well. Look at Craig MacPherson, who did a mezzotint
of Yankee Stadium at night for Mary Ryan and –

MR. COLE: Yeah. Just – It’s very – You know, it’s fascinating
when you think of, even Picasso, like the Tauromachia, I mean, is obviously
his major, major print. And all the prints he did since, nothing matches that;
but I don’t think it ever affected his market.

MS. BERMAN: When you said working with Hayter, what did you mean by –
You said, “He worked with me.”

MR. COLE: Well, I did shows with him. We’d pick student artists that
we’d make a group show out of. I did one show with him of Hayter and his
students. And Bill helped me get a Giacometti that was done, or he’d lend
me some things that he owned. And these shows, especially the one of Hayter
and his – and his influence, would usually get me a good press. I –
I – At AAA, I must say that we normally got an extraordinary press from
– starting with when Hilt Kramer was there, though he wasn’t that
strong on prints, but – Brian O’Doherty and – and certainly,
John – certainly, John Canaday. And then John Russell. As long as that
type of news critic was on the Times, we would get six reviews a year, which
was quite extraordinary for a print gallery. But you have to remember, Associated
American Artists was the only exhibiting all-print gallery in, probably, history.
From the time of ‘58, when I took it over, until the time in ‘83,
when I left, 25 years, we had an exhibition program, we’d do ten, twelve
shows a year. We had shows that were never even done before. [James] Ensor,
[Felix] Vallaton. I mean, one man shows of major artists. Picasso, Durer, Rembrandt.

We had certain annual shows. Every summer we had an annual old masters show
which went from [Giovanni] Tiepolo to Rembrandt to [Marcantonio] Raimondi, whatever.
Every Christmas, we had a show of prints framed to give as gifts. But in between
– Like, I remember Chagall Bible show, I remember [Georges] Rouault Miserere.
And – but – Then I remember Japanese shows that I worked –
we had a [Kitagawa] Utamaro, we had a Kuniyoshi. We had an Osaka print show.
I remember the first Russian prints we showed, from the graphic workshops in
Leningrad and Moscow. I worked – I had the first Art Nouveau shows of
[Alphonse] Mucha and artists like that. I mean – I saw one in London,
and – I worked with Estorich then and did the Russian show when they –
And when I got to Paris, there was all this Art Nouveau for nothing. I mean,
I could get the famous Mucha La Plume, buy twenty posters at a time.

I remember dealers who were just now into this as wholesalers coming in and
saying, “You’re selling below wholesale.” But all the –
What I think is possibly something important to me was that I kept learning.
Learning, learning, learning. I mean, every artist was a new thing to learn.
Ensor. Who – Nobody ever heard of him; I’d hardly ever heard of
him. [Childe] Hassam. I mean, you couldn’t do this today. I mean, I would
gather Hassams, I’d hide ‘em away and hide ‘em away, and finally
I’d had 30 or 40 Hassams, 50, and I’d have a show. I remember the
Hassam show – God knows how many years ago – but I remember I finally
decided to have it and I scheduled it, and I forgot where I’d hidden ‘em.
[Laughs] It drove me crazy! It took me three weeks to finally realize I had
hidden ‘em in an upper cabinet. I woke up in the middle of the night,
I said, “I know where they are.” But – I would store away
and plan on shows sometimes years in advance, and try to get – You needed
certain prints to represent certain artists. Like, you had to have the Lion
Gardiner House with Hassam. You had to have –And – But I started
with [John Taylor] Arms back in sixty-something, when I got that estate. And
I still have it. I regret I didn’t have some shows. I never had a Mann
show. But I never had enough to get together. I had many Stuart Davis shows,
I had many Feininger shows.

MS. BERMAN: When you said about the Hassam, “Oh, you couldn’t do
this today,” what did you mean?

MR. COLE: You just really – It’s not – I don’t know,
to get 50 or 60 prints of Hassam within a period of a year or two would take
a lot of – I don’t think you could just own it. I think you’ve
have to borrow some and things like that. Though at times, I did borrow; I would
– I remember for the Ensor show, I got a couple of rare prints from the
Museum of Modern Art. Yeah, I was – I was very serious about these shows,
and most – I was very serious, also, about putting catalogues out for
almost every show. I have a feeling the New York Public Library probably has
a pretty complete archive of that. But even if they were only four page things
–

MS. BERMAN: How did you get to know Francoise Gilot?

MR. COLE: I saw a print of hers. I used to go to the workshops at Desjourbert.
I was there one day, and – I think Dick Florsheim was working on something,
or somebody was. And I saw this little lithograph of a little child sitting
in a chair. And – They gave me the name of F. Gilot and her address. And
I wrote Mr. Gilot. And Mr. Gilot wrote back and gave me a back – All I
remember is it said Atelier Après, near Picasso. And I had no idea who
she was. And I think I commissioned a print before I knew who she was –
or knew it was a she, because she signed her prints F. Gilot; never signed Francoise.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, you were probably one of the few people who just accepted her
on her own merits, without knowing the connection.

MR. COLE: But there’s another case. I mean, Francois is here in New York
now, and she’s not well. I should call her. But she never calls me. You
know. As long as I’ve known her – and I’ve certainly done
a lot – In fact, I affected a lot of her life. I mean, we were so close,
when she was courting Jonas Salk, Lillyan and I would meet them for dinner at
a Russian restaurant and stuff. And he’d be holding her hand, just acting
like a little puppy in love. But – but I’ve known Claude and Paloma
since they were kids; they never call. I mean, Paloma, I think I gave her the
first job she ever had. She went to an auction for me to bid on some prints
in Paris. Kept calling me. “Sylvan, suppose I win the print, who pays?”
I said, “I pay.” [MS. BERMAN Laughs] “How do you get the money
to me?” I said, “I pay the auction house.” [They laugh] She
was so funny.

MS. BERMAN: Was she considering becoming an art dealer? Or was she sort of
a runner for you, or what?

MR. COLE: She was just – just something for her to do, and – I
asked her, I said, “I can’t go to the auction; I don’t speak
French. And these are some lots I’d like.” And she said, “I’ll
do it.” I said, “Alright, I’ll pay you a percentage on every
lot you get.” But Claude is – I mean, my son Jimmy lives in Paris,
and he’s two years younger than Claude. And he’s looked up Claude;
he’s visited with Francois, but – Claude wrote me one day and said,
“Jimmy shouldn’t be in Paris; he doesn’t speak French.”
Of course, today he’s been there for 25 years and it’s different,
but –

It’s – it’s a very complex art world structure. The artist,
the dealer – And – and – You know, I’ve always bent
over backwards to help the artist. And I do it to this day. I mean, I do –
Occasionally, I’ll have a personal friend say to me, “Sylvan, can
you help this artist.” I say, “No, I can’t.” “Well,
will you at least look at the work?” “If you make me, I will.”
And try to help, but you know, I keep saying I really am less and less helpful
than I used to be.

MS. BERMAN: Well, let’s – Now, going – going backwards, we
haven’t talked about some of these artists you probably met in the forties.
So let’s begin with Thomas Hart Benton. How you met, anything, you know
–

MR. COLE: Benton, I met early on at the gallery. And I think I said in the
previous interview that Benton and AAA had a falling out when Reeves did that
Missouri project. But then one time when I was in Provincetown, Estelle Mandel
was up there. And she took Lillyan and me to visit Benton in Chilmark. And we
took the ferry, you know, all that stuff, and – Rita took us around, took
us swimming and – In fact, these pictures here – Oh!

MS. BERMAN: I’m sorry. No, let me get it, ‘cause you’re wired.

MR. COLE: Yeah, it’s – These pictures have –

MS. BERMAN: Oh, those [inaudible].

MR. COLE: Pick ‘em up.

MS. BERMAN: Now, these are snapshots of Thomas Hart Benton and Rita. And –

MR. COLE: Yeah. Jessie may be there.

MS. BERMAN: Yes, yeah.

MR. COLE: And Estelle and my wife. Yeah, the – This is the two of us.
Rita, Sylvan, Tom, Lillyan; Tom; Rita and Tom. No, I don’t – This
is Lillyan way in the background.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, ok.

MR. COLE: Yeah, I think Estelle took those pictures; that’s why she’s
not in ‘em.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, that’s – that’s great.

MR. COLE: 1968, I think.

MS. BERMAN: Yes, well, he really was –

MR. COLE: Or ‘63?

MS. BERMAN: Well, anyway – He’s in good shape.

MR. COLE: Oh!

MS. BERMAN: He’s tiny, but he’s in good shape.

MR. COLE: He was amazing. You know, when you look at his self-portraits, you’d
think he was six foot five.

MS. BERMAN: Well, that’s obvious, because he’s so short.

MR. COLE: Yeah.

MS. BERMAN: Whistler did the same thing.

MR. COLE: He was a real curmudgeon. He – Very anti-paying taxes. That
was a real bane of his life, that artists shouldn’t have to pay taxes,
they contributed so much to the culture of the United States. He was a little
heavy in the drinking toward the end. He would have bourbon and branch water.
I remember when he was honored at the Salmagundi Club, and I went down there
for this big dinner. And I had loaned them 40 or 50 Bentons that the gallery
had at the time, and they put ‘em up all around the walls. And Rita said
– And then he’d come over to me and say, “Give me another
drink.” So I’d go to the bar and get it. And Rita’d say, “You
better water them down from now on.” And so I’d water ‘em
and – He never noticed. But – All I remember is Sanford Low, I think,
who was head of the New Britain Museum, after the thing, suddenly said to me,
“Can you make a deal, and I’ll buy ‘em all.” And he
did.

MS. BERMAN: These must’ve been prints?

MR. COLE: All lithographs.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. Sanford Low was one of his biggest supporters when other
people weren’t interested in Benton.

MR. COLE: That’s right. Well, the schism came ‘48, I guess, ‘49,
when – American scene died overnight. Just overnight. Suddenly nobody
came in the gallery. No museums came in the gallery. Except for the print program,
which was starting to falter, too. It – it – it was unbelievable
that it could happen so quickly. And suddenly the Museum of Modern Art had a
Pollock show. I guess ‘48 – ‘49. And Rothko and all these
– [Clyfford] Still, all this stuff. And it just – When that –
And that was the end of Associated American Artists, and the paintings, in a
way. And, you know, that was a terrible period, that was – I guess at
that point, I left AAA about ‘51 or ‘2 and went – I think
I mentioned that I went into this manufacturing, and then came back in ‘58.
But –

The artists besides Benton, I had met Curry, but I never got to know him. I
think the artists in my young days that I adored were Luigi Lucioni, Gordon
Grant, who was just the sweetest man in the world. I still have to find my collection
of envelopes and turn ‘em over to you, just for fun. And of course, I
was madly in love with Marion Greenwood. She was absolutely the handsomest woman.
A big buxom – Bobbed hair. And a perfect face. And she had really been
around. I mean, I sort of tried to deny it, but she had slept with almost everybody.
She – Diego Rivera, Max Beckmann, Alexander Calder, Ernst, on and on and
on and on.

MS. BERMAN: And both sexes.

MR. COLE: Possibly, I didn’t know about that. But I think you’re
right. Yeah, I remember years later cuddling up to her one time, and she said,
“Oh, Sylvan, we can’t get intimate.” She said, “I’ve
got scars that are too embarrassing to show.” [MS. BERMAN Laughs] Yeah,
and then she started drinking. And that’s what killed her. But I almost
– We had a Christmas party every year, and all the artists – And
what a variety. I mean, everything from Karel Appel to, you know, some just
beginning young artist. And it was always just something we all looked forward.
And Marion, I’d get my shipping guy, Murray Kaplan [ph], I’d say,
“Murray, you keep an eye on Marion, and get her into a taxi.” That
was his job.

MS. BERMAN: So – so Benton besides this sort of seeing him later on,
I mean, do you have any – Did you ever talk with him about printmaking
or anything substantial or –?

MR. COLE: Mostly Rita. Rita sort of – I remember begging her for an edition
of prints. And she said, “Well, ya can’t sell ‘em for ten
dollars anymore.” I said, “I know, but how about twenty five dollars?”
“Too cheap.” I said, “But these are young people just starting.
What a privilege it would be for them to have one of Tom’s things.”
“They can afford fifty dollars, seventy five.” Ya know, whatever.
And I did finally get two editions from her in the seventies, Sorghum Mill
and Discussion. And I did offer them at seventy five dollars, and they
sold out overnight. Yeah, it was hard to get – My problem with most of
my print publishing was getting really good artists, the way AAA started, with
the best. And the only way I could get major artists was to buy ten, fifteen
prints out of an edition. I remember I – I flipped over a Robert Motherwell
that Harry Abrams published. And I bought twenty five of them and catalogued
them. I did Alex Katz, I did Jim Rosenquist. I did a number of – Then
I did some of the younger artists, like – who’s the girl that does
– Jennifer Bartlett. Usually they were published by somebody else and
I liked the image.

MS. BERMAN: Well, what about George Grosz?

MR. COLE: He, I hardly remember, except that I did the catalogue at AAA for
the Stick Men. And also, the End of My – A World Without – A
Piece of My World in a World Without Peace. And both times, he was so gracious,
and thanking me for the wonderful job I did in the catalogue. That’s all
I really remember. I remember the shows. And I remember how disturbing they
were. He was really getting it all off his chest. There were two separate exhibitions,
probably ‘47, ‘49. But very much a gentleman; always impeccably
dressed. Shirt, tie. Very of the old school artist. Very dramatic. But he was
around the gallery a lot because of Pegeen.

MS. BERMAN: Did you visit his studio?

MR. COLE: No. I seldom visited artists’ studios. I only remember –
I remember Gordon Grant. I remember he lived in the same building Cornelia Otis
Skinner lived in, on the corner of 65th or 6th and Lexington. Beautiful building,
duplex apartments. And I remember his taking me up to the penthouse. And he
was starting to go blind. And –[tape stops, re-starts]

MS. BERMAN: You were saying that you usually didn’t visit artists’
studios.

MR. COLE: That’s right, yeah, and then I told you about Gordon Grant.
[MS. BERMAN: Right.] And then I did go up to his – He had a little penthouse
studio and – He had an apartment below in the penthouse. And I remember
he was going blind, and he was almost throwing away all his drawing books. And
I kept saying, “No, Gordon, don’t do that, don’t do that.”
And I don’t know whatever happened to them. But I do remember his coming
down to the gallery one day. And I had some unsigned proofs. And I remember
holding his hand, saying, “Alright, right here.” And then he’d
sign. But he was one of my –

I guess the most important artist, the most – The print that I published
that has become the most valuable were the two David Hockneys. I published Jungle
Boy and Edward Lear. And I had met David at an exhibition in London
of – at the Royal Watercolor Society. There was an exhibition of the students.
And my wife Lillyan took one look at a print called Three Kings and a Queen
and said, “Wow, this is some artist.” And she discovered David,
as far as I’m concerned. And we got to know each other. I guess I bought
some of those prints for twenty dollars a piece, Three Kings and a Queen.
And David came to the – to the United States. He had won a hundred guinea
prize, which gave him enough money – it was less than 500 dollars –
round trip New York, and money to stay. And he came here. And he made two stops,
one to Bill Lieberman at the Modern, and one to me at AAA, when we were between
52nd and Third, on Fifth. And I remember his walking in – Oh, no, this
is before that; I was down on 49th Street. And that’s when I first really
met him. I guess I had met him sort of in passing.

And I right away bought from him, I guess, a hundred, hundred and fifty dollars
worth of prints that he had rolled up in newspaper. He didn’t speak English.
He was still speaking Welsh. Hardly – Just enough that we could get by.
And with that money, he got to California! And that’s how he never came
back.

MS. BERMAN: Now, I don’t understand when you say he was speaking Welsh;
he grew up in Yorkshire.

MR. COLE: Well, isn’t that Wales?

MS. BERMAN: No, it’s northern England.

MR. COLE: Well, whatever it is.

MS. BERMAN: [Laughs] I mean, maybe the accent was so –

MR. COLE: Oh, the accent was unbelievable. Anyway, then I commissioned him
to do these two prints. I think at that time, I also gave him the first show
Hockney ever had in America, of The Rake’s Progress. I bought the portfolios
from Kasman [ph] in London. And – There were, I think, fourteen, fifteen
prints. There’s seventeen in the portfolio. And I showed them, but I only
sold them as portfolios. And I remember putting – I must’ve had
ten or twelve of them. I kept ordering them, and I sold maybe five or six. And
I remember having a few aside, putting three aside for the day they’re
gonna be very valuable. And then David did these two prints. I remember we had
to go out to Kennedy, to get him out of customs. And then – And he signed
‘em out there, because they were – No, what’s the matter with
me? It wasn’t Kennedy. Oh, it was part of The Rake’s Progress he
had to sign out there. But Leo Calipai printed the prints. He’s the guy
who taught my – taught Lillyan. And David signed them at the gallery.
I think I paid him – Editions of fifty. So it was a hundred prints. I
think I paid him a thousand dollars. And I put ‘em out in the market at
forty bucks. Sold next to nothing. And finally, I sold almost the balance of
all the edition to Kasman, who was then buying ‘em for fifty dollars.
More than I could sell ‘em for. But today, I think Jungle Boy
is six or seven thousand dollars, and Lear is somewhere around three
or four. Yeah, I think – I don’t think I published anything like
that in my career. I mean, not that some of the prints aren’t a lot more
valuable than when I published them, but – I know there’s some Soyers
that sell for pretty good money, and a few others, but – I’m afraid
that I just never can give credit to AA – that Reeves got of publishing
Benton, Curry, and Wood.

MS. BERMAN: Now, on David Hockney, does he ever acknowledge you in his career?

MR. COLE: Not really. He – personally, he does. I mean, whenever I see
him, he – there’s no question. In fact, he had a show in France,
and I had my son Jimmy go to see him. And Jimmy was told by David that I was
his first dealer in America. But Henry Geldzahler wrote a book on David, and
I’m not mentioned. Nor is AAA. I have a feeling we never had the prestige
as a print gallery, compared to –.The first major show that he had was
with Charlie Alan. And then he went to Emmerich.

MS. BERMAN: That’s interesting. Does Andre know you were the first –
his first dealer?

MR. COLE: Maybe, I don’t know. We’ve never talked about it. But
I do know that we worked together when the suite came out – which was
it? The very Picasso thing that David did. Early on. I won’t remember.
But he did a suite of prints, and – and I think one day Andre and I started
comparing notes and found out that he was paying a lot more for the suites than
I was. [They laugh] And there was hell to pay and – but – No, I
don’t think there was ever any connection. Andre and I were never that
close. We were both on the board of directors together of the Art Dealers Association.
One year when he was president, I might’ve been vice-president. I know
I was vice-president under Eugene Thaw and Klaus Perls and Harold Mills. Maybe
Andre was president after that.

MS. BERMAN: Was there a temptation to try to hold onto an artist like David
Hockney, to –

MR. COLE: Never.

MS. BERMAN: Or?

MR. COLE: Never. I never wanted an exclusive on any artist. And the few exclusives
I had – one was Jake Landau and the other was Dick Florsheim – on
their request. But it was a responsibility I really didn’t want. When
you’re dealing with prints, the ability to produce large quantities was
just more than I could handle. Especially prolific artists like both Landau
and Florsheim. In fact, at the end, before Dick died, I was getting him down
to editions of forty and fifty and – Because they just couldn’t
be absorbed. And I said I couldn’t even house them all. And I begged him
to go off on his own. And he did find a dealer in Scottsdale, and I think he
also worked directly with Garelick in Detroit. And it just – You cannot
take an artist – especially a printmaker – And I don’t think
even today, big houses like Gemini –

[BEGIN TAPE THREE, SIDE ONE]

MS. BERMAN: This is Avis Berman, interviewing Sylvan Cole for the Archives
of American Art, on July 18th, at his gallery at 101 West 57th Street. And Sylvan,
last time when we stopped, you had said you wanted to tell this story about
Hans Hofmann, so why don’t you begin with that, and we’ll return
to other things when you’re done [inaudible].

MR. COLE: I don’t know where I started or left off, but many years ago,
I met and became friendly with Jack Levine. And Jack had a studio on Bleecker
Street. And I remember I was anxious to have him do some editions for Associated
American Artists. Ok.

MS. BERMAN: Ok.

MR. COLE: So I went down to have lunch with Jack, went to the studio. I remember
fascinating things. I remember he was doing a portrait of a German general sitting
at a desk, with figures behind the general. And he was puzzled as to what to
do with a corner of the painting. And I kept looking at the picture, and I said,
“Why – how ‘bout a syringe or some sort of a thing that you
inoculate – you know, a deadly serum or something?” And –
and I do think he eventually put in a syringe-like thing in the corner. Anyway,
be that as it may, we talked about his etching. He had not done prints for years
and years and years. And I did get from him three prints. One was Maimonides,
one was the one of a horse, and I can’t remember the third edition that
he did. Adam and Eve. And anyhow, he and I went to lunch. And we went
to this little restaurant right around the corner somewhere. And in came Hans
Hofmann. And Hans, the big, burly bear that he was, and he came over to me,
we hugged each other, “Oh, how are you? How are you?,” and this
and that. And there was deadly silence between Jack and Hans, and so I introduced
– “Hans,” I said, “Hans, this is the American artist,
Jack Levine. Jack, this is the famous Hans Hofmann.” And there was a grunt
from Jack, and Hans shook his hand and said, “Oh, Mr. Levine, I know your
work and I’ve been a great admirer. You’re a wonderful artist,”
and a little chit-chat. And Hans went over to his table, where he was having
lunch with a couple of people. And Jack turned to me and he said, “There’s
the guy who set art back twenty years.” That was the story I remember
in this thing. But it was such a shock, you know, to get this from Jack, but
that was the world at that moment of time. I don’t think I can date this.
I think it’s got to be –

MR. COLE: Yeah. But I – I would have to find out when we published those
three Jack Levine etchings, and then I’d have a clue as to dating it back.

MS. BERMAN: Well, I think it shows a lot about both of their temperaments,
‘cause Hans Hofmann was always so expansive, and Jack was –

MR. COLE: Oh, what a sweetheart. And Jack was always the dour, sardonic person.
We see each other from time to time now. And every so often we threaten to have
lunch, and for some reason it just doesn’t happen though I would like
to catch up with Jack and just see how he is. I mean, I knew Ruth, his wife,
and I knew his daughter when she was growing up, and – and I used to visit
him at his house down in the Village.

MS. BERMAN: Well, that’s exactly where you’ve gotta go, and then
you gotta take him around the corner to Anglers and Writers. You’ve gotta
go to – You’ve gotta pull him out of his studio physically and move
him [MR. COLE: Yeah] two blocks; and that’s as far as he goes.

MR. COLE: Well, the strange thing about what I see in Jack’s work is
that it holds a very, very high level of accomplishment. And I think even his
latest shows are truly wonderful. I mean, he has gotten this sort of masterly
look about everything he does and – It’s very precious. I think
he’s alone in the world, in many ways, as all of his people that he really
cared about are gone. And he’s still relatively young, he’s –
1915, I think, makes him 85.

Other stories, I guess, of artists, I think they’re more vignette anecdotes.
Like, I can remember Raphael Soyer, whom – to whom I was really quite
close. And Raphael was my real bete noir. There was something about my height
and his height [MS. BERMAN Laughs] that was a problem. And I always felt Raphael
wanted to cut me down to his size. He’d ask very personal questions about,
you know, sex or, you know, sort of as if I was a stud or something, and –
and – and ask me, you know, things that were a little embarrassing to
me. And I probably avoided answering. I do know that one time we were having
a drink. He always came to the gallery around four or five in the afternoon.
That’s if we had a meeting or – Often, I would go to his studio,
but – You know, it was pretty evenly divided as who would go where. And
I’d say we probably met, oh, once a month, once every two months, either
one place or another. And I remember having a drink with him. And, you know,
Raphael, with two drinks, was almost drunk. I mean, I’d put him in a taxi
to get home. And we both drank scotch. And his – I think I remember he
used to drink it straight; and I – I always had mine with water.

And anyway, one time I remember his saying something to me that his dealers
have always set him back. And the statement always bothered me. And I used to
say, “What do you mean by that?” And he would say, “Well,
they try to control what I do.” And I said, “Well, I never did that.”
He said, “Oh, yes you did. You remember I brought you a lithograph with
a girl with buck teeth, a proof, and you didn’t wanna publish it because
you thought it was unattractive and wouldn’t sell.” And I said,
“Oh, yes, I remember. And we made an edition of fifty and it sold out
right away.” And he said, “See?” [MS. BERMAN Laughs]

But I do think Soyer had a way of being sloppy at times. Very casual in his
work. I don’t know quite how to express it. I think he’d get interested
in a facet of something and do it. Often – It was almost a challenge.
It would be usually a nude that was not particularly attractive, that was either
very scrawny or very obese, one or the other. And – and while he had beautiful
models, he also had models that sort of made him challenge what he was doing.
And as a publisher of many, many of Raphael’s prints, or a distributor,
I – I would have trouble working in editing.

And then of course, I worked with Raphael extensively in 1965 and 1966, when
I was doing the catalogue raisonné of his prints. And I wanted it out,
and I wanted an exhibition to coincide with a major retrospective of his work
at the Whitney. And this took an incredible amount of time. It was the first
major catalogue raisonné I’d ever done. And it was fifty years
of his prints, from 1917 to 1967. And slowly but surely, amassing all that material.
And then trying to date it, and trying to figure out edition sizes, if he remembered,
and – And often, he really had trouble remembering exactly what it was
all about.

I remember one time – I lived at that time at Park Avenue and 90th Street,
and I had this large living room. And I took the master set of prints up to
the apartment and I started laying it out on the floor, moving back furniture.
And Raphael and Rebecca both came to the apartment. And I went from 1915 to,
let’s say, 1930, laid that out; and then thirties; I laid out forties
– just so that we could see. And I would say, “Raphael, stylistically,
you have this in 1946, and it seems it’s more a fifties print than a forties.”
And Rebecca’d say, “Oh, yes, you did that in the fifties, and –
It was early fifties. Remember this, remember that?” So we would juggle
them around. And many of the dates I had circa instead of actual, because he
just didn’t know. And I think we did as good a job as we could. I do know
one time there was this nude leaning forward, with her breasts sort of hanging
down. And he said, “Now, that was Ros.” And Rebecca said, “Well,
you shouldn’t name who it is.” And it came to me that it was Ros
Roose, [MS. BERMAN: Right] who was the wife of a psychoanalyst whom I knew very
well, and both of them used to go up to Provincetown. I think Ros is still alive,
though.

MS. BERMAN: She is, she is, and she lives on the Upper West Side.

MR. COLE: 90th Street?

MS. BERMAN: There was an article in the New Yorker once about her and her career,
and she discussed all of the people she’d modeled [MR. COLE: Yeah] for,
including Soyer and – and Grosz and [inaudible].

MR. COLE: Yeah, well anyway, that was funny, getting this little aspect of
this print. I do know after the book was finally published, in 1967, and we
had it in time for the show – And then I think ten or twelve prints showed
up that weren’t in there. So we did a revised edition. And I’ve
always wanted to complete it, but I’ve worked with Raphael’s grandson,
Joey Lieberman or Liederman, I’m not sure. Joey – think it’s
Liederman. He’s Mary’s son, with her first husband. Though I don’t
know if she’s ever remarried since, though she’s been living with
somebody forever. And we did try to do a master set, and we did try to come
up with some way of going on. But it never came to pass. From 19 – I’d
say ‘75 or so, Raphael was making tons of etchings with various printers,
and he was making some – He even made some lithographs in the late –
early – middle sixties, with Irwin Hollander. And once he had the freedom
to do whatever he wanted, he just went on and on. And he – I – I
felt that the later work just started to decline, and – I must say at
this point, I’m not as interested in doing it as I was. I still think
it should be done, but I don’t think I’m the one to do it anymore.
And somebody should probably do a brand new catalogue raisonné incorporating
a lot of the early material that keeps showing up. In fact, there was a Swann
auction in May of this year, or earlier – may’ve been May –
where there were a lot of prints that I never saw. Early 1917 etchings that
a guy by the name of Arnold had collected, and it was his collection that came
up for sale. And obviously, works that Raphael had forgotten all about.

MS. BERMAN: I just wanna backtrack for a minute. How did you meet Hans Hofmann?

MR. COLE: Up in Provincetown. I would go up there, starting about 1960, I would
say, or ‘61. And for six or seven years, I went to Provincetown every
summer for two to three weeks. And the reason I went there was Dick Florsheim.
Dick had a house there. And he had already introduced me to Hudson Walker, who
became my strongest patron. And I adored all these people. And then I went up
and, you know, I met Sol Wilson, and I met Joe Kaplan. They were all part of
a regular poker game. Somewhere in that period, Helen Frankenthaler and Bob
Motherwell were married. And I had known Helen, so I met Bob. Through Dick,
I met David Smith. I met Rothko, who sort of had a shine for my youngest brother,
who got killed in an auto accident in the late sixties, and used to come over
to my brother Dick, Richard Cole, and have drinks with him almost every other
day or something. And it was, you know, an artists colony that I loved. There
was Chaim Gross, there was [Jack] Tworkov there was the great poet up there
that I liked so much. Oh!

MS. BERMAN: Stanley Kunitz?

MR. COLE: Stanley Kunitz. And his wife, Elise [MS. BERMAN: Elise] Asher, yeah.
But it was a very wonderful community. It seemed there was a six-ish cocktail
party almost every day. And the same gang would show up and all. I remember
Francoise Gilot was writing her first book on Picasso, My Life With Picasso.
[Coughs] Excuse me. And we were good friends. And Francoise came up and spent
a week with us up there. And she was sort of the rage of everybody meeting her,
and she was quite the center of attention.

MS. BERMAN: Well, what was – I mean, I realize your brother had the stronger
relationship, but what was Rothko like?

MR. COLE: I hardly met him. I mean, I saw him. He was a big, burly, friendly
person. He – he was the one I always had the most guilt about, in the
sense that – I used to always say, “What does an artist do when
he gets up in the morning and says, ‘What color blobs am I gonna paint
today?’ [Phone rings; tape stops, re-starts]

MS. BERMAN: You were talking about Rothko, and you were saying, “What
–” You know?

MR. COLE: Oh, yeah, I – Get up and two blobs. And when he committed suicide,
I always sort of felt that I understood. I mean, he had, I thought, painted
himself into a corner. Which was not his reason for suicide, but – I remember
the day it was in the papers, I was at Longchamp’s for dinner, on 78th
Street or 77th, 78th, on Madison. And I remember Adolph and Esther Gottlieb
coming in. And I went over to Adolph and talked to him about how sad it was
about Mark. And I knew they were very close, and – And I realized Adolph
had such a different temperament. He – He knew what he was doing and where
he was going. And Mark, I think, always was feeling his way. I – It’s
just a theory on my part.

Speaking about Adolph, I found out that he was doing some screenprints down
at Pratt Graphic Center, through either Fritz Eichenberg or Andy Stasik; I don’t
remember who was in charge then. But I did go down and – And then I went
over to Adolph and asked him if I could buy an edition of prints from him. And
we didn’t discuss money or anything; we didn’t discuss size of edition.
But a week or two passed, and I called up Adolph and I said, “What’s
happening with this possible purchase of an edition of your work?” He
said, “Oh, Sylvan, sorry, you’re not getting any.” I said,
“What do you mean?” “Well, I spoke to Frank Lloyd, and I told
him that you were interested in getting an edition, and he bought ‘em
all.” [Laughs]

MS. BERMAN: Now, how about Tworkov? Were you –

MR. COLE: Tworkov, I hardly knew. I did publish a print called the Double
Self-Portrait. And it never did well. And I sort of got that print indirectly;
I forget whether it was Mervyn Jules or one of the artists up in Provincetown
that mentioned it to me, and I found out where it was printed, and saw the proof,
and – and decided to negotiate and get it. And that’s all I can
recall. I don’t know whether papers regarding that are in the AAA archives
or not. So much of this was verbal.

MS. BERMAN: Of course.

MR. COLE: Most of the arrangements with the artists were verbal. Not that I
wouldn’t often put in writing an understanding regarding an edition, where
I’d say, “It’s our understanding that you will do this edition
of a hundred prints, numbered 100[sic] through a hundred, plus ten; that AAA
will pay for the printing; and that you will sign and number the prints; and
all the numbered prints would become the property of AAA. And the artist’s
proofs would be yours and –” It was a very informal sort of a letter.
I remember early on, in the – probably late fifties, early sixties, I
would put in a clause in the letter that AAA owned the reproduction rights of
the work. And I guess some time in the mid-sixties, I sold the rights for a
record cover to some record company – it was a very prominent one; I can’t
recall – for an etching of Harry Hoehn, H-O-E-H-N. And never thought about
it. I guess I got 200 bucks for the rights, or something like that. And I got
a letter from Harry Hoehn saying that he saw his work on this record cover,
and what right did I have to do that? And I wrote and said that that was part
of the understanding of our publishing that particular print. And he said, “I
didn’t realize that. And I am going to write letters to every artist I
know telling them never, never do business with Associated American Artists.”
I was really shocked. So I called him up and I said, “Come on in, let’s
talk.” And he was very angry, very upset. And I calmed him down. I said,
“I’ll tell ya what, I will take this clause out of all future letters,
and I’ll give you the 200 bucks.” And he suddenly was as nice as
a lamb. [MS. BERMAN Laughs] And everything ended peacefully. But I – I
had so few altercations with artists that they literally stand out in my mind
– as minor as that was – where I’d be dealing with hundreds
of artists. I mean, I think probably when I say I’ve dealt with 3,000
artists, I think I’m right. That some were just in passing, or some were
commissioned, some were not; some work I looked at and couldn’t use. And
I never, never had problems. You know. And – and here was a problem. And
I think that the only other problem – I had two other problems. I had
one with a man, an artist whose name I’ve forgotten, who did architectural
renderings. And Lever House was being built. And on spec, I discussed with him
that it might be interesting for him to do this as it was being built –
it may be another building, but I think it was Lever House – which he
did. And I had a lady who handled sort of special things like that, and she
took the renderings over to somebody at Lever House and whatever. And they rejected
‘em; they didn’t wanna buy them. And I told him that. And he sent
me a bill for a thousand dollars or so, and – And I said, “No, this
was not our arrangement.” He said, “Oh, yes it was.” And I
– We had nothing in writing. And rather than go through aggravation, I
think we settled for 500 dollars. And he kept the drawings.

And the last one I remember was Bernard Childs. Bernard Childs, I met at the
opening of the Huntington Hartford Museum at Columbus Circle. He just charmed
the hell out of me. He was a printmaker. I told him what I do and – And
I just – We had quick rapport. And I know I spent a lot of time at that
opening with Bernard. I called him Bernie in those days. He had just come from
Paris. And he asked if he could make an appointment and come in and show me
his work, and I said sure. I think within two days, he calls me up, and I make
an appointment. And he brings in his prints. They are absolutely fantastic.
They – Just jewels. And I – I said, “Oh, I’d love to
handle six of them, just to get started.” And I said, “This one,
this one,” and I picked out the six. And I said, “What’s the
selling price?” He said, “Well, this one’s two hundred; this
one’s three hundred.” I said, “Oh, I can’t sell ‘em
at that price.” And he said, “What do you mean?” I said, “Oh,
I don’t have a market at that kinda money for these prints, and –”
And – I mean, maybe we’d sell one or two a year, at most. Most of
the prints at the time, a hundred dollars, a hundred and fifty was a high price.

Anyway, he said, “Sylvan, try.” And so I said, “Alright.”
So I took ‘em in, matted ‘em. And they went into the bins of all
the other prints. And nothing happened, and – I guess a month passed,
and he called me and he said, “How you doing?” I said, “You
know, nothing, they’re really – I told you this.” And he then
went on, and he called me suddenly almost every two weeks. And finally it got
sort of upsetting, and I said, “Look, Bernard, if I’m gonna sell
a print, I’m gonna let you know. And if you’re gonna keep bugging
me, I’m gonna ask you to take the prints back and we’ll be friends.”
He kept bugging me, and finally I said, “Bernard, come up and pick up
the prints.” So he comes up to pick up the prints, and I gave him five;
he says, “Where’s the sixth?” I said, “I sold it.”
He said, “Well, keep these.” I said, “No, I’m not gonna
keep ‘em. I’m gonna pay you for the sixth, and that’s the
end of it.” Which I did.

I guess three or four years passed, and Aldis Brown, who had worked with Peter
Deitch, came over with my gallery director at that time. And things were sort
of flourishing. And Aldis comes into the office, he says, “I just found
the most wonderful artist.” I said, “Who?” He said, “Bernard
Childs.” I said, “No.” [MS. BERMAN Laughs] He said, “I’d
really like to do it. I really think we can sell ‘em.” I said, “Alright,
Aldis, but it’s your responsibility. You make the financial arrangements,
you do everything.” Financial arrangements were fairly simple; we got
50:50 across the boards with all artists. With no exceptions. I stuck to that
because I wanted every artist being treated equally. I didn’t wanna have
one artist getting 60% and another 50. And I stuck to that, I mean – And
so I said, “You take care of it.” So Aldis did. And sure enough,
time went on, nothing was sold. Aldis left to form his own gallery, and I decided
it was time to give Bernard his prints back. And by then, he wasn’t Bernie
anymore; he’d married Judith, and it was now Bernard. And he wouldn’t
even come up to get ‘em. I think Judith got ‘em. And then he called
me and said, “These prints are not acceptable. They’ve been damaged.”
I said, “What do you mean, damaged?” He said, “Well, the hinging
is wrong, and this is wrong, and I – and I gave you pristine prints. So
these prints belong to you, and I want payment.” So I said, “That’s
ridiculous.” And I really thought Judith was wonderful, and we’re
still good friends. And I called Judith. I said, “Will you get this guy
off my back?”

Anyway, it ends up that her father’s a lawyer. And suddenly I got a letter,
legal lawyer letter from her father on behalf of Bernard saying they want payment
for 50% of the retail. Well, this went on and on, and I said no. Finally, I
know we did settle. And I did buy them. And I do know I then put ‘em out
for sale at 50% of what he had for pricing. And he blew up at that. I said,
“They’re my prints; I can do with ‘em what I want.”
And that was my vengeance.

MS. BERMAN: [Laughs]

MR. COLE: But I guess I could’ve gotten persnickety, too, but I was really,
I think, generally very good with all the artists. I mean, I – I think
they respected the gallery, respected me. And I always felt comfortable. And
I was to the – I was to the dot on payment. They got paid the 20th of
the month following sale, whether we were paid or not; it was too much trouble
to – with all this volume of business. But I would sign the 20th of every
month probably between twenty – which would be minimal – to 60 or
70 checks to artists. It was really – And I loved it. I loved signing
those checks. And they loved getting ‘em. I know we threw a Christmas
party every year for the artists and the staff. And that party would be about
the 15th, 16th of December. Or, you know, pretty near the 20th. And I’d
have the checks made out early, and at the Christmas party I’d go around
with envelopes, handing artists the checks that they got. ‘Course, there
were some artists that didn’t get checks that were at the party, but it’s
– it was a nice thing. Sort of a Christmas present.

MS. BERMAN: Well, and you mentioned – Let’s – let’s
pick with somebody that you really knew well. You said Hudson Walker. Now, tell
me about – You evidently had a real relationship with him?

MR. COLE: Oh, Hudson was just wonderful. Hudson, I really was – became
very close to. I met Hudson through Richard Florsheim. Dick Florsheim, of himself,
was such a close friend. I mean, we used to talk as if we were brothers. We
were intimately close; we knew each other’s personal lives, personal finances,
personal hopes and dreams. I think I, in an earlier tape, mentioned how I got
to meet Dick. Did I?

MS. BERMAN: I don’t think so.

MR. COLE: I may be confusing it with – I’ll repeat. There was an
exhibition of American prints at the Rorsach[sic] Museum at 103rd and Riverside.
It’s not Rorsach –

MS. BERMAN: It’s Roerich.

MR. COLE: Roerich Museum. I’m mixing up my Freud. And there was a print
of ships at anchor called Masts. And I just knew that was a winner.
So I – I think in the catalogue, they had the names and addresses of the
artists, so I got it in some way. Dick was in Chicago, and I wrote Mr. Florsheim
and said that we would like very much if he would consider doing an edition
similar to that for Associated American Artists; that the edition was 250; he’d
get ten impressions; and we’d pay 500 dollars, I think, at the time; and
the print would sell for ten dollars. So I got back a lovely letter; he’d
be delighted. And Dick asked all the – Dick was very precise. Like: Who
would supply the stone? Who would pay for the printing? Who would pay for the
paper? All these very precise things. I answered ‘em. And I did get my
first edition; I think it was Anchorage. And I think it sold in two
weeks, all 250 gone. And that was the beginning of our friendship. And I would
say that I was selling at least a thousand prints of Dick Florsheim a year from
1962 right through to the end of the sixties.

MS. BERMAN: Astonishing.

MR. COLE: Astonishing! He – he would go to Paris, and he made the first
two color lithographs for Associated American Artists. I can’t remember
the titles. One was a vertical, almost 30 inches high by twelve inches across.
And the other was a horizontal, same measurement. The one was a sort of skyscape
or city scene, and the other was a scene of Provincetown, of the weirs and the
nets and – And those two we put into a catalogue, a little four page thing
with both in color. Thirty dollars a print. It was astounding. We had checks
with orders this high in one day! A foot and a half high. Just all with thirty
dollars, sixty dollars, or whatever it was. And that – those editions
sold out. So then we kept doing black and white 250 editions for ten dollars,
and then color ones, and – It just went on and on, and I did a show with
Dick, his first major print show. And of course, Dick’s prints were in
probably 75, a hundred collections across the world. I mean, they were in the
Bibliotech Nationale, they were in the British Museum. I mean, he was sorta
well known. At one time, he was president of Artists Equity. And Dick was a
very popular guy who – You know, he – he went on through, I guess,
to the end of the sixties, being as popular as he was. He showed at Babcock
Gallery. And there, he had a smash success with a write-up in Time Magazine
and the New York Times, and notoriety like that. And then, as quickly as this
media rose, it died. Evidently, we had really saturated a market.

I mean, there were just so many people that could buy so many of Dick’s
prints. And – So I commissioned him to fewer editions. And also, I didn’t
do any more color prints with him, and things like that. But Dick kept going.
He was always at Mourlot at the rock pile and – or at Desjourbert making
prints. And he was very popular in both these places. Dick had spent some time
as a youngster in Nice, where his family set up winter quarters at the Negulescu
[ph]. And of course, Dick spoke fluent French. And so when he’d get to
these workshops, they all adored this American that not only did nice work and
knew how to make prints, but also spoke French.

But I think Dick had trouble toward the end in – in just having lost
that recognition and – And here he wanted me exclusive to handle every
edition he ever did, and finally I had him get somebody in Arizona or New Mexico
to handle his work, and Garelick in – in Detroit to handle his work, and
Frank O’Shalger [ph] in Chicago – prints as well as the paintings
they were handling – so that I wasn’t the complete source for the
print distribution.

There’s nothing much more to say about this, except Dick died and –
He was having lunch at some club in Chicago and went to the men’s room
and had a heart attack, and that was the end of it. But I keep thinking that
toward the end of his life, he was very needled by having had this great success,
and then going into – And I think this is a problem that I have always
had with artists who sort of go past their prime. And especially when I was
working on shows like WPA [Works Progress Administration] and I’d go to
the artists and say, “I’d like to see if you’d sell me or
lend me WPA prints,” and they’d say, “I don’t wanna
do that; what about what I’m doing now?” And it has happened over
and over again. And you see it. You know, you – You see it with every
artist. For some reason. I mean, even Jasper Johns, you want the prints of the
sixties or the work of the sixties. Picasso, from 1904 to about 1940. On and
on and on.

MS. BERMAN: Well, and artists who are primarily easel painters or sculptors,
there’s a certain high point. I mean, everybody that – Well, they’re
still working.

MR. COLE: You keep wondering which artists seem to – I think [Edward]
Hopper sort of never had a real decline. I have a feeling it takes a certain
isolation and a certain type of mentality to keep the adulation and all the
recognition away and – and – I look at somebody like Rauschenberg,
where, you know – He has his low moments and his high. But [Robert] Rauschenberg
was determined not to be caught into a trap. And so he kept moving on and moving
on and moving on. Whether he moved on well or not, history will determine that.
But I think – I know Dick Florsheim used to say, “I can’t
copy myself.” And I’d say, “Well, Dick, this was the sort
of stuff that sold better.” And he – he was absolutely – He’d
almost go the opposite way to avoid being trapped by the marketplace. And yet
I know artists that – I remember one whose name – Well, I guess
none of this is going to be released, but I remember Umberto Romano had a show
at AAA back in the late forties. And one of the paintings was sold. And this
woman came in, she said, “That’s the one I’d have bought.”
He said, “I’ll paint you another one,” and did.

MS. BERMAN: Well, don’t forget that there are also artists like [Alexander]
Archipenko that went back and they’d redate it, they’d – you
know, it’s –

MR. COLE: Oh, yeah. And I think the same thing is said about [Giorgio] de Chirico.
Painted his early stuff later on in life.

MS. BERMAN: Well, Stuart Davis was an artist who did not decline. He got better
and more [inaudible].

MR. COLE: It’s true, there are some that just seem to get better.

MS. BERMAN: It’s very rare, though.

MR. COLE: But again, it’s the artist that – Like Stuart Davis never
– I have a feeling it’s a matter of acclaim, in a way. I think the
market and the acclaim is a very corrupting influence. And so if they don’t
have that, they can keep doing their thing. And if they can survive –

[BEGIN TAPE THREE, SIDE TWO]

MR. COLE: – integrity, where the artist does not want to make potboilers
of what he’s done. I mean, I know there’s a printmaker, Harold Altman.
And I am the only dealer in prints that I know of that has never had an exhibition
of Harold Altman. And Harold Altman, I’d say in the late fifties, early
sixties, was the child prodigy of prints. He was unbelievably talented. The
University of Wisconsin – And he started making these wonderful linear
prints. And then he made – went into parks and – and that sort of
thing, subject matter. And Harold – I haven’t seen him probably
in eight or ten years. But he was making a million dollars a year, churning
out his prints. Wonderful. If you saw one or two, you were aghast; if you saw
them over the years, you realized that it was just one after the other. And
he showed with Weyhe Gallery, with every gallery I could think of that handled
prints in New York. No loyalty to any one gallery. Still shows, I think, at
Art Expo, where his kids sort of manage his material, and I think it still sells;
I don’t know.

MS. BERMAN: That’s interesting. This is – I’d never even
heard of him.

MR. COLE: Well, he was – I did publish a few of his prints, but I never
gave him a show.

MS. BERMAN: Well, I wanna kinda get back to Hudson Walker here.

MR. COLE: Oh, I’m sorry.

MS. BERMAN: That’s alright. These other things are fine.

MR. COLE: We haven’t even talked about Huddie. I met Hudson Walker through
Dick Florsheim. They were neighbors in Provincetown in the summer. Dick’s
house – Next to Dick’s house was called the buffer state, which
was – The Walkers owned, I think, two or three houses right in a row on
– right on Provincetown Bay. And then came Huddie and Ione’s house,
where the girls grew up – Hattie, Berta and Louise. Berta and Louise are
twins. And then another house, which one of the relatives may’ve owned,
I don’t remember. But Hudson and Ione were the king and queen of Provincetown.
They were the supporters, the arbiters, the – And I think it was pretty
early on after I met Hudson – which was probably ‘61, ‘62,
somewhere in the late sixties – he said, “Sylvan, I wanna buy every
– a print from every edition you have ever done at AAA, starting back
in 1958. And I will continue doing this every year.” And I was publishing
probably twenty to thirty prints a year. And while the earlier years, I was
publishing fewer, I got this master collection together, and it all went to
the University of Minnesota, where they framed them and gave them to students
for their rooms. For a semester. Oh, they maybe borrowed ‘em, or they
had a small fee to pay. And at the same time, Hudson was buying every print
– The prints that were part of the Print Council of America. Well, IGAS,
International Graphic Arts Society. They were also publishing prints. And those
prints would all go out there. And every year, Hudson, Ione, sometimes some
of the – Berta or Hattie or somebody would come on in, and I’d take
them all to dinner. But before they went to dinner, they’d come to the
gallery around six in the evening – the gallery’d be closed –
and I would then show them that particular year’s publications. And they’d
make their comments and they’d – You know, they were buying it anyway.
And of course, I gave them a very special price. But it was a considerable purchase
for me, and – and it was an honor. And it was sort of an archive of the
gallery’s publications. But I don’t think that archive exists today;
I think that works were stolen. I know IGAS had published an Escher that disappeared
that today sells for ten, twelve thousand. I had published a couple of David
Hockneys that I think I was told they had disappeared. And I think a few Soyers,
or something like that. But it was just – I also had a couple of Bentons
that I had published. So those all – And I don’t know to this –
I know at one point before Hudson passed away, he had stopped doing that. And
– Maybe it was pretty late. Just – I don’t remember when he
died, but –

MS. BERMAN: But he didn’t give any of these to museums; this was just
for the university.

MR. COLE: Yes. Never got – He did other things for museums. Like, he
might see a print that I had published and say, “Now, that I’d like
to go to the Milwaukee Art Center,” or something like that, and so he’d
buy a duplicate impression.

MS. BERMAN: Now, did – did – Did you ever talk to Walker about
artists who did well, like say Marsden Hartley and –

MR. COLE: Oh, yeah.

MS. BERMAN: That would be very interesting.

MR. COLE: Well, that – I must say, we talked about it. But he had two
great loves. One was Kathe Kollwitz, and the other was Marsden Hartley. And
I do know that he used to tell me about getting those estates and – and
not Kollwitz’ estate, but getting a big block from some dealer who passed
away – Norman or something – and getting a block of the Marsden
Hartleys. And I do remember he had several Hartleys in his home. I don’t
know whether he had that Dinner at the Thresher’s – What’s
– what’s it called, where these – all these brown –

MS. BERMAN: The fishermen –

MR. COLE: Yeah, the fishermen at the table.

MS. BERMAN: I’m not sure if that’s the right –

MR. COLE: Somehow that –

MS. BERMAN: Fisherman’s Supper or something. Dinner at the
Thresher’s is a Grant Wood.

MR. COLE: Grant Wood, yeah. But – He would talk vaguely about the Hudson
Walker Gallery. And I remember Joe Hirsch used to tell me that he was one of
the artists that was in the gallery. And – But I must say – Most
of the time, we would have lunch together about once every two or three months,
at the Century. And he would ramble on about the art world as it was at the
time, more than the Hartley material. I think the Hartley material was being
handled by Babcock, even though Hudson owned it or – They were the distributors
and handlers. And I think Hudson was sort of not as involved with the actual
sales and merchandising of that estate. I think he did give away some to important
collections and stuff like that, on an annual basis, for tax purposes. Actually,
Hudson is – when I knew him, and as long as I knew him – was in
the jewelry business.

MS. BERMAN: I had no idea he was in the jewelry business.

MR. COLE: Oh, yeah.

MS. BERMAN: Well, he was also involved with some lumber or timber, there was
–

MR. COLE: Oh, that’s the family business.

MS. BERMAN: Right, right. That’s what I – Because we looked through
that in various Abbott guides of commissions – to photograph – and
photographing along the camps.

MR. COLE: Yes, actually, Berta was very close to Bernice Abbott. They lived
in Forest Hills in a very nice house. Certainly, loaded with art. I mean, Hudson
was an avid buyer of art. Never bought anything expensive, though I think his
eye was good, and he certainly ended up with a wonderful collection. I know
after he died, I remember going out and Ione asking me if I could handle this
or that or the other thing. But he had stored away a Lautrec poster, or some
[Honore] Daumiers, or goodness knows what all. And I think he also had an interest
in Max Weber, collected quite a bit of that. Very much his own person. Nobody
advised him. Hudson, liked something, he’d say, “How much is that?”
He never haggled, he never wanted special prices. He – If you gave him
special prices, he was appreciative, but he would never say, “What’s
my best price?,” or “What can you do for me?” He was very
much a gentleman that had very, very strong likes, and very, very strong dislikes.
He was not a person that – If you were on his good side, great; if you
were on his bad side, just forget it. I mean, he was rigid about it. And very
outspoken about people that he didn’t think much of. Like George Biddle
was somebody that he would fuss over.

But Hudson was also very instrumental in founding the Artists Equity. And he
was – founded, in a way, the Print Council of America with Lessing. While
Lessing Rosenwald was involved, Hudson was certainly involved. Joshua Binion
Cahn, who wrote with, I think, [Carl] Zigrosser, “What Is An Original
Print?”, eventually married Hudson’s brother’s widow. And
they both passed away with the past five or ten years.

MS. BERMAN: Now, just also in Provincetown, of course, you mentioned Robert
Motherwell, who was certainly a prolific printmaker. Did you have anything to
do with him, with –?

MR. COLE: Never.

MS. BERMAN: Never anything?

MR. COLE: We were neighbors in Provincetown and knew each other. And friends.
I mean, I – I remember going in his studio. I remember two wonderful stories
about Bob. One is walking downtown with him one morning. And I was meeting Hudson
over at the Provincetown Inn, which was the other side of town, for lunch. And
Bob may’ve been invited, too; I don’t remember that. But I asked
Bob how things were, and he said oh, he was exhausted; he had painted ten paintings
that morning. And of course, with his action painting, he’d have ten canvases,
and he’d just go. And then he would sit for hours in front of each one,
and probably destroyed all ten, or maybe kept one. The other story is a doctor
Seley, S-E-L-E-Y, or S-E-A-L-E-Y, I don’t remember. I remember him and
his wife Marsha. And the Seleys were vacationers in Provincetown, much as my
wife and I were. And one day Dr. Seley borrowed Dick Florsheim’s sailboat,
which I think was maybe – If sixteen feet long, it was big. It was probably
nearer twelve. It was tiny. And I think it was called AAA. And they borrowed
the sailboat, went out into the bay. And a storm came up. And I think Dick,
through his glasses, saw the boat capsize. And he was gonna call the Coast Guard.
And I went over to Bob and I said, “The Seleys just capsized in the middle
of the bay.” He says, “Come on, let’s get it.” Bob had
a power boat. So we jumped into the power boat. He revs up and he starts –
boom! And there’s a jetty right – I said, “Bob, Bob!”
We just missed the jetty. And he head out, and it’s pouring rain, and
he’s trying to light his Gitanes Bleu cigarette and – and finally
– I never forget it – he says, “I’ve always wanted to
rescue my doctor.” And it was his doctor. In fact, it was this doctor
that had given Bob his heart – What is the monitor thing?

MS. BERMAN: Pacemaker?

MR. COLE: Pacemaker, yeah. What a line.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. Well, I hope you got ‘em.

MR. COLE: Oh, yeah, we got to them. And we took them back, and I think the
Coast Guard came and hauled in the boat.

MS. BERMAN: Well, we – It occurs to me, as we’re sitting here and
I’m looking at one wall of prints by Will Barnet, that we have not discussed
your long – with Will yet –

MR. COLE: Well, Will, I started with back, I guess – On and off, we’ve
known each other, almost 40 years, I’m sure. He’s somebody I just
got to know better and better as our friendship grew, and – and –
I’m trying to recall what started first. I’m trying to remember.
I think – It must’ve been when I gave him a – I’d planned
to give him a retrospective, and at the same time, publish a catalogue raisonné
of his work. And – Working at the gallery was somebody who had been around
the art world and was handling publications, whose name I’ll forget; it’s
George somebody. He was sort of a Hassam scholar. And he had worked, I think,
with ACA and a few other galleries. But anyhow, he did a lot of the legwork
on helping get this together. And then Will and I would work on dating and edition
sizes and all this. And Will – We had our retrospective, and it was a
smash success. And he was so happy to have a catalogue raisonné. And
over the years, I don’t think there’s been anything special; I –
I think at times, I published some of his big color prints. And of course, it
was a moment – I’d say throughout the seventies – when demands
on Will’s prints just kept rising. And he was doing prints for Circle
Gallery and for a lot of the more – I wouldn’t call ‘em schlock
galleries, but galleries that didn’t have the prestige, and they were
commercial vendors of work. But his work was selling at – And I know Will
would tell me that the amount of money I gave him for an edition was a fraction
of what he was getting from some of these big galleries. But I didn’t
want editions. I’d have an edition of a hundred; these guys would have
editions of 250, 300, 40 artists proofs. I mean, on and on and on. And I remember
at the time – I think Elena used to sort of call me Will’s conscience,
because I would try to say, “Will –” You know, he was one
of the few artists that managed to stay away from falling into the abyss of
a LeRoy Neiman or a schlock artist. I mean, he – But he just scaled that.
It’s a very narrow thing of these artists that were mass producing prints
in large editions and being sold by people like John Soke [ph] and – and
others. Will managed to sort of stay above that level.

He always had good dealers. He had trouble staying, because dealers would fall
apart. I think his first dealer was Scott Waddington. It was a guy with W. Very
nice dealer on 57th Street [Richard Waddell, Waddell Gallery]. And then he died
or committed suicide — something strange happened. Then he went to Kennedy.
Maybe Dintenfass, Kennedy – And then Hirshl & Adler or maybe Hirschland.
And then when Hirshl & Adler changed, they got rid of all their contemporary
artists, including Will. That’s when he probably went to Kennedy. And
then Dintenfass. And now he’s with –

MS. BERMAN: Tibor de Nagy.

MR. COLE: Tibor de Nagy. And quite happy. Philip Alexander over there is –
knows Will and seems to be – Because Philip came from Dintenfass and –
And they had their first show of Will’s work, of the very abstract period,
which got good reviews and good coverage. And I know Will – I just spoke
to him yesterday, and he’s on top of the world. He took these prints that
I had shown at the Print Fair, had a big show of these prints, about fourteen
or sixteen of them, in the Hamptons over the weekend. And he said, “Sylvan,
they sold out. There were eleven prints sold the first night.” So he’s
really happy, and tons of people, lots of people.

MS. BERMAN: Just are – just for the tape these are prints of the forties.

MR. COLE: These were prints from 1936 to ‘46 that he had never editioned.
[MS. BERMAN: Right] Found the plates, and made editions of fifteen to twenty
five. And they have done quite well. The price range is somewhere around 600
to 1200 dollars.

MS. BERMAN: Well, I remember when they found the plates, because – I
think it was also last November, I was over there – or October –
visiting them, and you came by, and I was helping them tack them up in a taxi.
You and Mary came by as they were – They had just gotten – I don’t
know what book they were.

MR. COLE: Right, well –

MS. BERMAN: They happened to be doing –

MR. COLE: I remember I first saw them last September. And that’s when
I said, “I’ll put ‘em in the Print Fair.”

MS. BERMAN: In October.

MR. COLE: In November, and I sold 85 prints in four days. But I had very special
opening prices, which were only good for the fair. People did take advantage
of that. I sold – let’s see – to Block Gallery at Northwestern,
I sold to a museum in Missouri. Yeah, I did quite well.

MS. BERMAN: That art, yeah, that print fair and that art fair in February,
everybody did magnificently, as far as I understood.

MR. COLE: Well, I think so. I didn’t go in the Art Fair this year; I’d
gone in 1999, and I had a disaster. I went in 1998, and sold moderate six figures,
which for a print dealer, was fine. But ‘99, which I broke my rule of
going every other year, ‘cause I’d done so well in ‘98, and
I got killed. I think I did twenty five, thirty thousand dollars worth of business.
And I had the best material I’d ever had, I mean – But it wasn’t
that inexpensive, and probably competed too much with paintings.

MS. BERMAN: Now I’m gonna go back to – I – I have this long
list of other artists that we’ve mentioned. Oh, also, I just – for
Will, you know, in – in terms of that, I mean, how do you evaluate him
as a printmaker, his contributions to American printmaking.

MR. COLE: Whew! I think Will’s very hard to place. He – He is probably
the most knowledgeable in all aspects of artistic making, whether it’s
painting or gesso or etching or wood or what. He is completely professional
in these areas. He has done ‘em all. He has actually been a printer at
the Art Students League when he was younger. And his knowledge is vast. He has
had his students, tons of artists. He’s loved and respected. His work
– He’s trapped by different periods. He went from a very Depression
era type Americana. He, at the time, looks at a couple of his works, like Air
in the City and Child on a Tenement Window as the first dealing
with ecology and that sorta thing. He then goes into a semi-abstract movement
with color in his prints, as well as in his paintings that get into that area;
and then into very abstract, completely abstract, wonderful images. The Big
Duluth and others that are standards. And then he comes out of that into
family and cats and sort of a Oriental style of – muted palette, serene
and soft. Which most of art cognoscenti thinks isn’t very good. And this
is, of course, what’s been selling like hotcakes in the print area. I
think with Will, it’s an endless struggle for recognition. He isn’t
jealous; he just feels that he never gets quite the recognition that the stars
get, like Rauschenberg, Johns. He’s very close to Jim Rosenquist.

MS. BERMAN: That – he was a student.

MR. COLE: And – Yeah, and Jim is very devoted to Will. And – and
– You know, I don’t think Will resents Jim’s success at all,
but he feels that he should be there, too. I don’t know how Will works
out economically. I know he’s comfortable. He has a rather small studio,
which you’ve been to, in New York at the National Arts Club. And I think
he’s leaving probably end of this week to go up to Maine to visit Una
and her family, and the kids have now grown; I mean, his two grandchildren with
her. And it’s also Elena’s grandchildren. And I keep saying, “Will,
you’re adored, you’re loved, you’re honored; you get honor
after honor. Be at peace, you know; don’t try to be something that you’re
not.” And I think he is more comfortable. I mean, he’s just overwhelmed
and bubbly with what happened at the Hamptons this last weekend. He needs it;
it’s the adrenaline. He said, “I’m worn out, but there were
hundreds of people that came to the show, and I met so many people, and old
friends, and it was just wonderful,” he says to me. He stayed with Judy
and Gus Leiber. And evidently, they have a palace, which I’ve always wanted
to get to. ‘Cause I showed Gus when he was just a youngster, in a way.
And his name was then Gerson Leiber, still is. And he – I gave him a show
years back, in the late fifties, early sixties. And he was working – He
was married to this Hungarian that he had met during World War II or something,
maybe, I don’t know. And suddenly, she was making success selling ladies
purses and pocketbooks, and suddenly Gus was busy being – handling those
shipments. And suddenly Judy became a household thing, and so Gus made art.
He’s got the most fantastic studio, I mean, in the East Thirties, right
off Park Avenue South. I mean, it’s just so vast, with a front sitting
area and sort of a place for fixing things, and then you go in back and there’s
all sorts of presses and woodworking material and this and just, just amazing!
And he goes there every day and works, of course. They’re now in the Hamptons
for the summer. They live in a penthouse on Park Avenue and 34th. They live
a wonderful life. And of course, Judy got bought out about three or four years
ago for, evidently, millions and millions and millions; she was retained as
an advisor, but she finally just stopped that; it was just a show thing. And
I don’t whether the Leiber bags today are anything like what she produced.
But Will and Elena stayed with them for the weekend, and he said it was so elegant
it was amazing. But he’s a happy man today. I mean, whether that’ll
last a week, two weeks, three weeks or something, I can’t tell.

I know in the fall, there’s gonna be a show of some of these prints at
Tibor de Nagy, plus a drawing show.

MR. COLE: Well, you see, there is, to Will, [MS. BERMAN: It’s never enough]
a waste of effort. I mean, Montclair, he’s delighted, and it is traveling,
I think, to someplace in Maine, someplace in Florida. And I know it’s
going to the Arkansas Art Center. But the venues aren’t the Boston Museum
of Fine Arts. It isn’t enough. I understand that. It should’ve been
at the Boston Museum. It should go to the Whitney. I don’t think –
You know, I do not think he is not at least worthy of that. I really feel that
he is. I really feel that certain artists just fall through the cracks because
it just doesn’t work. I mean, Soyer did get his Whitney show; Will will
never get one.

I remember years ago when Lloyd Goodrich was director and Tom Benton was gonna
be, I think, 80. 75, 80. And I remember when Picasso and Braque became 80, all
of Madison Avenue made it the biggest thing that ever happened. And I went to
Lloyd and I said, “Tom’s gonna be 75.” I think it was 75.
“Why don’t we do something for American artists?” And this
was several years in advance. And I’ll never forget it; they were booked,
they couldn’t do it, didn’t work out. Whatever. And I do remember
on Tom’s 75th birthday, I had a major, major print show of all his prints.
And the Whitney had a show of Helen Frankenthaller.

There’s no answers to these things. I think the trendiness of this art
world gets very confusing. It’s very confusing now. I mean, it’s
– I don’t know how you follow it as an art historian. I mean, I
look at the papers and see ads for artists or reviews on artists I’ve
never heard of and dealers I never heard of. And maybe this is a normal turning
over, but it seemed to me, 30, 40, 50 years ago, you knew everybody and you
went to openings. I don’t know. It’s too much with this.

MS. BERMAN: I think there are many, many, many more artists now. There must
be over a hundred thousand artists in New York City, easily. Easily.

MR. COLE: Easily.

MS. BERMAN: And now there are several – you know, there are many more
galleries. But you yourself said at one point that you were on a panel with
Motherwell, and you said, “Bob, I can’t believe we’re in the
same art world. [MR. COLE: Yeah] So you didn’t know everybody.

MR. COLE: That’s right.

MS. BERMAN: So, you know – And there’s – I mean, there are
some – You know, all these struggling artists out there are doing something
radical that I don’t know anything about because they’re, you know,
they’re talking to themselves and, you know, and I – I can’t
be in Hoboken and Williamsburg and the Lower East Side and in SoHo and all,
you know – Unless you’re –

MR. COLE: I have no desire. I don’t know whether it’s a complete
turnoff. I mean, I can’t remember – I think I went – I didn’t
even go to the opening of the Whitney Biennial. First one I probably missed
in 40 years. And I – I went to a private thing, where there were about
40 people and you could really see it, and spend an hour there and saw what
– I don’t remember too much. But I find – You know, thinking
I – When I became a private dealer, that would be wonderful; I’ll
be able to get out and see all the shows I wanna see, and I’ll do this
and I’ll do that. And I don’t do it, I – I’m a member
– Museum of Modern Art, I haven’t been to in almost a year and a
half. Used to go at least three times, four times a year. The Met, I still go
to quite often. Had to see Tilman Riemenschneider. I wrote a paper on him in
college.

MS. BERMAN: Let me see how much time we have. Well, we can start. You know
what I wanted to ask you about was Lozowick. Did you have a relationship –

MR. COLE: Oh, Louie was just the sweetest person. I never had a close relationship
with him. I never even published a print. He had given me two prints of –
proofs of prints to possibly consider publishing, probably in the late sixties.
And I didn’t. I didn’t think they were extremely interesting. But
Louie had really been hid under a rock for a while. And then Dane [ph] somebody
sort of took him on. A framer. And started advertising it as the greatest American
artist or something. And somehow, the Whitney gave him a show of his prints.
I don’t know whether Judy Goldman had something to do with that or it’s
before her time. But that suddenly brought Lozowick into view again. This was
early seventies. And I think he died shortly thereafter. I thought: How wonderful
that he had this show while he was still alive.

And then I became very close to Adele, his widow. And I did one or two Lozowick
shows. I remember we did one of Lozowick’s New York, in which the catalogue
had a map of New York City, a street map. And then I had numbers of where Hanover
Square or the Fisk Building or whatever. And Coney Island, the whole thing.
And then – But Lozowick was like so many artists I’ve known, where
works they had done early on were mouth dropping. I mean, really. New York and
Minneapolis, Chicago, Luna Park. I mean, among the greatest prints made in America.
And this happened to me with two other artists, where – it couldn’t
happen today – but one was Spruance. And Benton Spruance, I gave his first
show ever in New York. And it was sort of a wily game. I mean, I liked Benton
Spruance, and I liked his work. It was either allegorical or religious or landscapes.
Big color prints, which he printed himself. Color and all. He was an expert
printer. And so we had this show in New York. Sixties, late sixties. And I knew,
too, that he was a friend of John Canaday, so I figured: Ah, we’ll get
a review. And Canaday never covered the show; I think Brian O’Doherty
or somebody else did. And –

But then it wasn’t ‘til after he died that I suddenly found this
early work, the people work, the precisionist work. I mean, it was incredible.
And I guess it was early eighties that Margo Dolan of – who was then Dolan
Maxwell – and I had left Associated American Artists. She used to run
AAA in Philadelphia – bought this massive collection of Spruance. It’s
one of almost every print he ever did, from Father Fletcher. And I negotiated,
bought this collection from him; brought it in, divided it with Margo. And we
had some shows, and of course we had a great success with that early material.
I – I sold some things to the Whitney, some other museums; Margot did
the same. So that was a surprise, based on what I knew of Benton.

And the third artist was Werner Drewes. And I don’t know if I covered
him before.

MS. BERMAN : No, we haven’t.

MR. COLE: Well, Werner Drewes – In 1958 or ‘59, I gave him a purchase
prize in our twenty – AAA’s 25th anniversary print competition,
to celebrate AAA’s 25th anniversary; so it had to b ‘59. I know
I told you, I think, that Una Johnson and William Collins were the jurors. And
they gave certain prizes. But I also gave purchase awards, where I purchased
an edition at a fixed fee, which I arranged with the artist, from all the works
that had been submitted. And I – Werner Drewes did a black, green, and
white small woodcut of – Reflections, I think that was the title,
of trees reflecting in a pond. And I bought the whole edition. And that’s
how I first met him. Whether he was still in St. Louis then or not, I don’t
know. I do know he moved to Reston, Virginia somewhere in the course of probably
the sixties or seventies. I know his wife had passed away and he’s remarried.
He had two grown sons, one of whom I still see, who –

MS. BERMAN: Well, one of them sort of still either manages or [MR. COLE: Yeah]
takes care of the – the – the estate.

MR. COLE: Right. And anyway, I was handing Werner’s prints; they were
mostly landscapes, California redwoods, and a few abstracts from the late seventies.
He sort of – Which were very marketable, very corporate-like. Corporations
were buying those. And I published a second print of a – of a harbor scene.
And boats and – Pretty scene. And it did very well. And then he kept bugging
me for a retrospective. And he kept saying, “Well, you gave one to Karl
Schrag, and one to Louie Shanker and Dick Florsheim – I forget who all,
I – Will Barnet. You know. And he wanted a retrospective. So finally I
gave in. And I think it was 19 – shortly before I left, 1980, ‘81.
The show was to be in January or February. And I went down – I’m
sure it was January that I went down, it was – And I flew down to Washington,
rented a car, and got lost finding my way to Reston, and got there at noon.
But before I left, I had called him and I said, “Werner –”

[BEGIN TAPE FOUR, SIDE ONE]

MS. BERMAN: – interviewing Sylvan Cole for the Archives of American Art
on October 11, 2000. Now, Sylvan, why don’t we begin where we left off,
at which you were going to see Werner Drewes, and you were – had just
arrived in Reston, Virginia, where he lived.

MR. COLE: As I – This may be repetitive, but Werner had been after me
for a retrospective. He had sort of cited all the retrospectives that I had
given to various artists, like Will Barnet and Karl Schrag and Louie Shanker
and on and on. And he said that he certainly ranked with them, and I should’ve
given him one. So I agreed to. And I remember in January I went down. And probably
around 1981, or ‘80, I’m not sure, I went down to – flew down
to Washington, rented a car, and drove to Reston. I got lost on the way, but
finally got to his house, roughly around noon time. And they wanted me to have
lunch, and I said no, I’d like to go right to work; that I didn’t
– I had so little time, I wanted to definitely be getting back to New
York around five o’clock.

And I had already told Werner what I had in mind. I had in mind for the retrospective
that we would take ten prints from the thirties, ten from the forties, ten from
the fifties, ten from the sixties, and ten from the seventies and early eighties,
which would give us about sixty prints, and we’d have a balanced show.
When I got upstairs into the studio, where he had made the piles of these decades
of prints, we started off with the late twenties and thirties, and it just blew
my mind. It was absolutely material I had never seen. It was wonderful. I don’t
think it was common knowledge about – that he had done this. At least,
it certainly wasn’t anything I knew. And I kept saying, “Werner,
I want this and I want this.” Oh – And he kept saying, “Well,
wait until you get to the later material.” I said, “Oh –”
And before I knew it, I had at least twenty prints from the late twenties, early
thirties. I had no trouble picking ten prints or so from the forties. And at
that time, we broke for lunch, we came back. And by the time we got to the fifties
and sixties, there was a relatively weak period of production. He had moved
from the –

I should go back a little. In the thirties, he not only had these wonderful
abstract, almost Kandinksy-like images, but he also had a lot of cityscapes
of New York and bridges and things like that. And it seemed that one was done
for commercial purposes, and the other for his own use. And – Getting
back to the fifties, he had redwood trees, sequoias, portraits, a whole variety
of fairly uninteresting, though professionally done work. I think in the fifties
and sixties, I probably took six or eight prints each decade. And then when
we got to the seventies and eighties, he went back to this color abstract imagery,
which again, was very strong, surprisingly strong. The thirties and forties
were mostly black and white. But here he had added color. And we put the show
together.

I think I mentioned in the previous interview that once the show was on the
walls, it just was wonderful. And I hit what I call a homerun, because I do
know the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Whitney Museum, the New York Public
Library, the Modern, and the Brooklyn all bought from that show. And that, in
a way, sort of brought Drewes back into being a major, major artist.

He died shortly thereafter, and the – I wish I could remember the name
of that suite of ten prints that was the major achievement. It had a cover of
a swastika-type thing. And I – I have to look that up and just give it
to you. But he did a major suite of ten prints. And I think I had most of them
in the show, though I did not have the suite itself. And as a matter of fact,
that suite, I’ve only seen probably twice in my life, because I think
it was always broken up and sold separately.

MS. BERMAN: Were there any other artists that you were close to that, you know,
you think we might – should discuss?

MR. COLE: I think I was close to a lot of artists. I’m just trying to
think if I’ve left any out that were important in my life. Did I talk
about Dick Florsheim at all?

MS. BERMAN: Yes, extensively.

MR. COLE: Because he was sort of a real friend in my life, and he lived up
and down, the life of a typical artist, where he had a certain amount of fame,
and then just got forgotten. I don’t think I can add too many to –
that I haven’t mentioned. I mentioned [inaudible], I know.
I think I mentioned – Joe Hirsch?

MS. BERMAN: Well, you didn’t go into him in detail at all, you just mentioned
–

MR. COLE: Well, there was such a variety of artists. I mean, I do think that
– I would not be exaggerating if I didn’t say that during my career
I worked with at least a thousand artists, of which probably twenty or thirty
were of major import, and the rest were itinerant, almost, artists that just
did their thing. And some arose to fame, like Peter Milton, in his own way or
Carol Summers in his own way. There – there were certain printmakers that
became strong individual image makers. And – But I think – One must
realize that by the time I hit my heyday, which was sixties and seventies, coming
on at the same time with the beginnings of Tatyana Grosman’s workshop
out in Long Island, June Wayne starting Tamarind – And the big names were
emerging, which I had little or no contact with. The Jasper Johns, the Rauschenberg,
the Warhol. Subsequently, [Roy] Lichtenstein, [Joseph] Stella, [James] Rosenquist.
I – I knew Larry Rivers sort of in passing, and we still sort of nod when
we see each other. I did meet all these artists at one time or another. But
it was never on a – I never worked with any of them professionally. Whenever
I had works by these artists, I always got ‘em through the publishers
that were publishing them.

MS. BERMAN: Well, let’s also – let’s – let’s
talk – What – Did you have any kind of relationship with Tatyana
Grosman?

MR. COLE: She came in several times. I went out to see her. I just missed the
boat. I mean, she showed me prints of a coat hanger done by a young artist named
Jasper Johns, to retail for seventy five dollars. And it – it just was
nothing to me. It – it – I can’t explain. I do remember vividly
that print. And I remember Jill Kornblee took over, because I wouldn’t
show these artists. And she had a show in her gallery. I think it was 1018 Madison
or something like that. And they were all these, coat hanger and the other works
of the artists that Tatyana produced. I do remember I had a Stones,
which Larry Rivers did with Frank O’Hara. I remember buying a set somehow
and – and selling it. I – I remember having various of her artists
at different times. I do remember getting involved with Motherwell. But –
My clients did not come to Associated American Artists to buy that kind of material.
They were following the Benton, Curry, Wood tradition, the Americana, the representational.
Sloan, Marsh. And also the old masters. And the French. Certainly, the Picasso,
Braque, Chagall, Miró. And this was what was our stock in trade. I mean,
this is what I kept buying. And – While I think I was adventurous at various
times in – in the historical area, where I put on an Ensor show or put
on a show of the French late 18th, early 19th century of [Felix-Hilaire] Buhot
and [Auguste] Lepère and – and various artists, I did not get adventurous
in the contemporary.

MS. BERMAN: Now, it just occurred to me, another artist – And also, you
can – I’d like you to discuss him as and artist and then as a curator
in force in the print world, I want to ask you about is Jacob Kainen, because
I remember, when you said coat hangers, that Jacob bought that very early on
at the Smithsonian, and was looked at very strangely.

MR. COLE: Jacob Kainen used to come in the gallery frequently. We were friends,
very good friends. I remember when I was once on holiday in Provincetown, Jake
was there at the same time, and we had a chance to be together. It was right
after he had a split with his wife, and he was not a happy camper, and it was
before he married his present wife. Jake would buy prints from AAA. He had an
amazing eye. He – I remember one of his most important purchases, which
is important to me, was Stuart Davis. And I had done a pretty important Stuart
Davis show early on. I – I did at least two. But I know I did one, and
a lot of the museums bought. Jake was one of them. And he wanted a discount.
I had traditionally given a 10% discount for all museum purchases. And I was
sort of proud of museum sales. To me, it gave credibility to the gallery when
a museum bought something that Avis Berman could buy or somebody. You know:
Look, a museum bought this. And it was sort of a Good Housekeeping stamp of
approval.

Anyway, Jake wanted the 10%. And I called Roselle Davis, and she said, “No,
they’re not entitled to 10%. Where were they when Stuart was alive? Why
didn’t they buy then?” So I remember telling Jake that. I remember
saying, “Jake, Roselle said you should’ve bought sooner. Why did
you wait until he had passed on?” And Jake said, “I tried. But Edith
Halpert would never bother to show me prints.” She wasn’t interested
in ten or fifteen dollar sales. And now, of course, the prints were certainly
no longer fifteen dollars. I think – I think I had Barbershop
at around three thousand dollars. And I only had one to sell of the thing. And
I had plenty of Theater on the Beach and Two Figures & El,
and they were each eighteen hundred. And the French – eleven French prints
were very difficult to sell, and they were all in the four to six hundred dollar
range but Jake used to tell me he was taking money he could get easily for typewriters
and desks and put it into art.

MS. BERMAN: Right. That’s true. Supplies, that’s what –

MR. COLE: That’s right.

MS. BERMAN: Now – now, how do you evaluate him as an artist, as a printmaker?

MR. COLE: Oh, I have trouble with that. He certainly was – did many very
good WPA prints of the traditional Depression era type. His abstracts? I think
they’ve always been in good taste, beautiful. I published one or two.
I’ve gone to almost every show Jake has ever had and I’m familiar
with his work. And in fact, his last show was just over on Fifth, the Fuller
Building, and still – almost in a wheelchair, but still doing interesting
and wonderful work. I know one time there was a black tie thing in Washington,
which I went to. I can’t recall what it was, but I do remember that my
wife and I went to his home, where – We used that as a changing place.
And I remember his showing me his – part of his collection of the German
Expressionists and things like that, which were so extraordinary.

MS. BERMAN: Without a doubt. Did he show you the Munch prints, that they –
they have Munch, as well.

MR. COLE: Oh, I don’t think I saw them all at that time. I mean, I do
remember seeing the Beckmanns and – and some of the others. In fact, he
had even bought some of the German Expressionist prints from me. Ruth was –
He was married to Ruth then, and he was living in sort of the grand style. It
was a marriage really made in heaven. Ruth Cole, my – We call each other
cousins. And she was just great for Jake, and – and – He deserved
what he got. He deserved all the happiness that he got from her, and the fact
that he was financially able to buy works personally, and – You know,
he’ll go through – Even at the recent Print Fair, he went through
my cases and, you know, and – Then he said, “Well, I’ll go
through this again,” and he pulled out a couple of Averys and he said,
“I’ll buy those.” I mean, he’s still sensitive, and
still acquiring and – I don’t think the purchase was made because
we were just friends; I think he really liked the prints and wanted ‘em.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. Definitely –

MR. COLE: But he hardly ever goes to a fair and doesn’t buy something
from me. It might be a five hundred dollar print.

MS. BERMAN: They have a wonderful collection, and they have – Well, they
have John Graham, and they have a wonderful Rothko watercolor.

MR. COLE: Oh, I haven’t been down there in years.

MS. BERMAN: Well, I think that we should – we should progress and –

MR. COLE: By the way, I forgot to tell you, one time Jake’s son worked
for AAA. I think he lasted a month.

MS. BERMAN: Dan?

MR. COLE: What?

MS. BERMAN: Dan Kainen?

MR. COLE: Yeah.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, no.

MR. COLE: When I went to the opening at the Fuller Building about a year ago,
he came over to me and he said, “Hey, remember, I used to work for you.”
And –

MS. BERMAN: I didn’t know that.

MR. COLE: I had some amazing – Did I tell you about Lessing Rosenwald’s
granddaughter working for me?

MS. BERMAN: No.

MR. COLE: Betsy, yeah. Yeah, I think I mentioned that.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, I think – Well, you had mentioned that Andre Emmerich
had worked –

MR. COLE: I worked with Andre. We were both hired at the same time, 1946. Same
year. That’s when Helen Frankenthaler was still at Bennington.

MS. BERMAN: Right, right. Well, I – I wanna talk about the impact of,
you know, about some of the major print curators. And I guess I would start
with Hyatt Mayor over at the Metropolitan, or if you had any [inaudible].

MR. COLE: Hyatt was a really good friend. He was just wonderful. He had an
enthusiasm that – and a love of prints that – It seems that that
era of curator were – had the time to be scholarly and to know about prints
from the playing cards of the 15th century to what was being produced that very
decade. They were very free in sharing information, very enthusiastic about
somebody as – like myself, who was younger, loving prints as they did.
And it was a wonderful relationship I had with Hyatt. I’m sure I told
the story of the Feiningers.

MS. BERMAN: No.

MR. COLE: When I got the Feininger collections?

MS. BERMAN: No, no.

MR. COLE: Bill Lieberman, on his birthday, February 14th, [Laughs] took me
down to Julia Feininger for supper. And this was 22nd Street and Second Avenue,
I think, in a very ordinary apartment. Living room, kitchen, dining area –
and the area was like a closet – little hallway, which had a bedroom –
a bathroom on one side, and a closet on the other, and a bedroom. And Feininger
even worked there in that apartment. We had some cheese and crackers and stuff
and goodies that Bill had brought. And then we discussed my taking over the
estate for prints. And she said fine and I made an appointment with her. The
following day or two days later, came down, spent the afternoon with her. We
sort of inventoried the prints that she had. And I guess it took us a couple
of weeks to do that, organize them – And they ended up in, I would say,
three boxes. It was over a thousand prints. And after we were through with the
inventory – There were interesting things that would happen. Like we’d
find two prints, both the same, and one would be marked first state and the
other second state. And we’d be looking. And I’d say, “I see
it.” And she said, “Don’t tell me, let me find it.”
And in one print, he had a little window, in the other he didn’t. And
– Or sometimes she’d say, “I wonder if Lyonel’s playing
a trick on us, [MS. BERMAN Laughs] in making a first state and second state.”

Anyway, finally we got through with the inventory, and so she said, “Well,”
she said, “Take ‘em.” So I got on the phone and I called the
shipping department at Murray Kaplan, I said, “Murray, get a taxi, hold
the taxi, and come up and help me carry these cases down.” And we carried
‘em down, got back in the taxi, took ‘em to the gallery. So there
we had all these prints. And then I got involved with Leona Prasse, because
she went through every one of them, and she was doing the catalogue raisonné.

MS. BERMAN: Leona Prasse.

MR. COLE: So I gave her an office where she could work. And it was on the –
We were on the – at 605 Fifth Avenue, which is between 48th and 49th.
We had started on the third floor of that building, and we grew to the fourth
and fifth floors. So we had three floors in that building. It was a –
sort of a brownstone, floor-through floors. And she was up on the fifth floor,
and through the intercom she’d say, “Sylvan, come on up, I found
another state.” So I’d go running up and – Anyway –
And I used to tease her. I’d say, “Ya know, Julia’s never
gonna live to see this.” And she said, “Well, you’re a dealer
and I’m a scholar.” I wanted her to hurry things up. The only other
person that ever said that to me, too, was Gail Levin. But – And ah, God
– I got involved with her on the Hopper prints. She didn’t know
an etching from a lithograph. Anyway, that’s an aside.

Finally, Bill Lieberman suggested that the first show be called Ships and Seas.
He knew the work so much better than I. So I picked out a hundred prints, I
think with his help, that dealt with ships and seas from big to small little
sailboats and – And he wrote the essay for the first catalogue. And Julia
was alive. And Edith came to the opening, and so did the one who taught up in
–

MS. BERMAN: Was that T. Lux or –?

MR. COLE: That’s right, T. Lux Feininger, the one who taught up at Cambridge.
And so I met them for the first time. And – But before the show was mounted,
I called Hyatt. And I said, “Hyatt, let’s have lunch. I want you
to see the Feininger –” I – I never let on that I had so many
prints. I mean, this was a hundred I was putting on the market. And we went
to lunch and – at Longchamps, which was my hangout, between 48th and 49th.
Came back to the gallery, and he started going through the prints. And he said,
“Oh, Sylvan, what a dessert. Best dessert I’ve had in years!”
And he was so excited, so excited. And “Oh, isn’t this wonderful?”
He got through all hundred, and I looked at him, and he said, “Sylvan,
this has been a privilege.” And I said, “Well, Hyatt, are there
any there you’d like?” “Oh, I’d like ‘em all!”
I said, “Hyatt, are there any there you’d like to buy?” And
he said, “Oh, Sylvan, we don’t have the money. And besides, we’re
gonna get ‘em all anyway.” And it was the thought that everything
that was important or great would be – go into commerce, and then be willed
to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. And out he went. Not a one!

So the second person I called was Harold Joachim from the Art Institute of
Chicago. Harold flew in. Went through the hundred, picked fifteen – which
in those days was probably, I don’t know, twelve, fifteen thousand dollars,
the price of one print today – and picked, without question, the fifteen
best. There wasn’t one other in the other 85 that you said, “Well,
that’s – probably he missed that.” He picked the fifteen best.
Unerring eye. Complete – And he did it quickly. He went through them once,
he went through them a second time, put ‘em aside, and then he, without
any review, he said, “These are the ones I want.” I said, “Well,
you can’t have ‘em ‘til after the show.” He said, “That’s
fine.” And that’s my story with those two.

I subsequently, I think, [Eleanor] Sayre came in; I think [Carl] Zigrosser
came in, didn’t buy anything. I think Philadelphia was the only museum
I didn’t sell. But – And then years later, John McHenry[ph] came
in and bought Feiningers from me. And I remember I gave them one as a personal
gift, which – He called me, he said, “Sylvan, you’re in our
New Acquisitions show,” and I sort of felt very proud to see “Gift
of Sylvan Cole” on the wall, with a great print. But yeah, McHenry sort
of tried to fill in some of the strange gaps – even Grant Wood –
that Hyatt had not bothered with. Not that Hyatt had made mistakes. It was just
his way of acquiring, and he was more concerned with building the – the
collection to having the best impressions of everything they could get, whether
it was Chandor or Rembrandt or – or Feininger. But Feininger was too close
to his thinking to go out and spend money on it.

MS. BERMAN: Now, I’m – I’m confused. Now, wasn’t –
Was it [Carl O.] Schniewind who was [Curator of Prints and Drawings] at the
Art Institute, or –?

MR. COLE: Schniewind had died. Or had resigned – or I – I never
knew Schniewind.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, ok. Right, ok – so you dealt with Joachim.

MR. COLE: No. No, Joachim, in the early sixties – I think the first show
was 1963 – was the curator. And highly regarded.

MS. BERMAN: Right, definitely.

MR. COLE: Yeah. Sayre was in Boston. Zigrosser was Philadelphia, Mayor was
New York and Joachim was Chicago. And those were the biggies.

MS. BERMAN: So – Well, I – And also, Bill Lieberman, of course.

MR. COLE: Oh, well, Bill Lieberman was usually modern art.

MS. BERMAN: Right.

MR. COLE: And Bill had no interest, because they had so much gifts from her.
I mean, they had a great Feininger collection. And Bill, I – I first met
in ‘46. Bill and I have known each other now 64 years – 54 years.
I mean, my God! We were just in our twenties. And he had been made curator of
prints at the Modern. I think he had had that job for a few years. I had just
come out of the service and was starting with AAA. And Bill would come over
once or twice a year and look at our five dollar prints. And occasionally buy
something. He was never snobbish about it. It was just part of his job. And
I know I usually worked with him. It’s funny, years and years and years
later, I remember he traded me a [Paul] Gauguin from Estampe Moderne for a couple
of Grant Woods that I owned personally. And it went into the Museum of Modern
Art collection. But that was years later. That had to be in the sixties.

We worked – He was really a very good friend. I mean, he was, I would
say, always a professional. Even with your friendship, it was a professional
– And with all his relationships – and I’ve known Bill with
– We used to have dinner often together at Louise Smith’s. And he’s
very fond of my wife. I remember when Lee Krasner died, he – he took Lillyan;
I couldn’t go out to the service. Very conscientious of maintaining –
knowing what the relationship’s about. I mean, recently, Emilio Sanchez,
who was a friend of both of ours, a Cuban-born, Yale-educated artist, passed
away. And Bill called me and said, “I just got word that Emilio died.”
And the service was on such and such a day, and he knew I’d wanna know
and go. And of course, it was in the papers, but Bill called me before. And
we went to the service, and Bill gave a beautiful eulogy.

But Bill – This would have to be off the record until both of us died.
Bill was very aware of his strengths. He was devastated after the schism came
with the Museum of Modern Art. He – When Rubin was brought on –
And it was a troika arrangement, after Bates Lowry had been there and wasn’t
working out. And Bill was made Director of Collections, Rubin was made Director
of Exhibitions, and Oldenburg was made director of whatever. All the rest. Administration
or something. And then Rubin pushed Bill out. Rubin said, “I cannot be
Director of Exhibitions without having the collection at hand.” And the
board offered Bill a year sabbatical and director of the department of drawings.
He could not go back to prints, because Riva Castleman, his assistant, had become
Curator of Prints. So Bill took the sabbatical. And I remember his – See,
he and I had a community apart in Fire Island, so I see more of him in the summer
than I do all year round. And I remember Bill discussing being offered a job
in Washington at the – I think the National Gallery, I don’t remember
that, but I – I think it was. And I used to say, “Bill, you’re
a New York person. You cannot possibly leave New York.” I said, “The
department of drawings isn’t the worst thing in the world. You love the
Modern, and you’re still – Everybody who knows you knows who you
are and your scholarship. Nobody is gonna look at this as a demotion or anything.”

But then Tom Hess died. And – and a miracle. I mean, you think of strange
things. Henry Geldzahler decides to leave the Met, where he could be forever,
to become commissioner of art, city affairs, or whatever. Tom Hess leaves Art
News, goes to become curator of 20th century art at the Met, and dies suddenly.
Who is the most perfect person for that job in the whole world? Bill Lieberman.
Absolutely the most – Absolutely. 20th century art. Knew it backwards
and forwards. Under Alfred Barr, under [Rene] d’Harnoncourt. So, I mean,
it was never – I mean, I was so sure he’d get it. I mean, and I
think Bill had worries and concerns, but it happened relatively quickly. He
got it. And he’s gotten a couple of brickbats since, they – But
he has done so much good for that museum. That collection he got from Chicago,
which the Modern would’ve gotten; certain paintings he got from Louise
Smith’s collection. I mean, on and on. He really knew where these things
were and I – I – I know – Bill, to de Montebello, is one of
the fair haired boys of the world. In spite of some criticism that he gets from
art publications on his purchases of contemporary art. But that’s –
Nobody’s ever gonna not get criticism for that.

And Bill is very private. He is – He has so many assets – aspects
to him. I mean, he’s one way with one person, he’s one way with
another, he’s – he’s – But as I say, he’s a consummate
professional. And he’s working all the time. Even at – socially.
I mean – He was – Oh, the – Whatever name, the people, the
two yachts from Mexico that gave the great Matisse, The Sailor, to
the Met.

MS. BERMAN: Oh, oh, yeah, the Gelmans.

MR. COLE: The Gelmans.

MS. BERMAN: Gelmans, mm-hm.

MR. COLE: I mean, Bill used to tell me unbelievable stories! Here are these
people, with twin yachts. In the Mediterranean. He would join them in Rome or
something. Go onboard one of the yachts. Laid out on the bed were shorts his
size; shirts, sport shirts, his size; money, hundred dollars, in the currency;
robes, whatever. Then they would take off, let’s say for Naples, and at
night, the ships would come together. And one night they’d eat on one
ship, and one night on the other. And the chefs would vie to make the best meals
ever, ever, ever. And I think la Paz, is he the writer?

MS. BERMAN: Mario Paz, or Octavio? Octavio. The one – One of them won
the Nobel – there was Mario Paz and there was Octavio Paz.

MR. COLE: Well, I think it’s Octavio was aboard and – I mean, all
these amazing people. One time they did Turkey. And Bill – All these days,
they’d just go in and out. But that’s another connection. I mean,
of course the Rockefellers, he knew well. Philip Johnson. Who’s the lovely
guy who was acting director of the Met for a while – of the Modern? Heavy,
a big collector.

MS. BERMAN: Paley, no.

MR. COLE: No, no. It’s not – But another good friend of Bill’s.
Oh. German Expressionist. German born. I think it begins with a B.

MS. BERMAN: An artist?

MR. COLE: No, he’s a wealthy industrialist. American now. Lives here.
And he was on the board of the Modern forever, and he was acting –

MS. BERMAN: Oh, oh, Walter Bareiss.

MR. COLE: Right.

MS. BERMAN: Ok.

MR. COLE: Gosh, I’m glad you’re – You are so perfect for
this; you know all these people. Yeah, Walter Bareiss. Also very, very close
to Bill. But people like Julia Feininger. I mean, Julia used to cry that Bill
wouldn’t take her calls. I mean, Bill had done his job with her. He had
placed the watercolors and things with Marlborough. Colin, Ralph Colin was her
attorney. Sylvan Cole took care of the prints. And it was done. And Julia would
call him. I – I’d call him, I’d say, “Bill, Julia is
crying. You’ve got to at least say hello to her once in a while.”
He said, “Sylvan, I really am very busy.”

When Bill’s out in Fire Island, nobody knows he’s there. He rents
a house, where he rents the front part of the house, with linoleum on the floor
– Living room, counter, kitchen, bedroom, bedroom, bath. And a little
deck. Sits there, reads all day long. Fixes Scotch and sodas all day long. Loves
gossip. I mean, I’ve met Rockefeller kids out there, I’ve met Stuart
Preston. I mean, he – The son of the king of someplace, you know. Amazing.

MS. BERMAN: Well, yeah, I imagine – I imagine that on vacation, he doesn’t
– he just wants to sit there and chill [inaudible].

MR. COLE: He goes out – He takes the train or the bus. He goes on Friday,
he leaves Sunday around two. I cannot get him to come over. He used to come
over and visit with me constantly, but he hates the lateral ferry, and he doesn’t
wanna walk anymore. And I’ll say, “Bill, the bay is like glass.”
And we would play Russian bank hours on end. Just – Never for money. Bill
refuses to gamble; he’s not a gambler. And it was just pure pleasure,
never talked shop, hardly at all. I miss that, I really do. I don’t make
the effort to get over to him that often and vice versa. We’re only two
miles apart, but – I’ll drop by once in a while in the past few
years. But he doesn’t come over to see me anymore. Though he did –

[BEGIN TAPE FOUR, SIDE TWO]

MS. BERMAN: That’s – Now, the other – You had mentioned before,
we haven’t spoken about June Wayne. Except that you mentioned her. So
I think it would be interesting to get your take on her.

MR. COLE: I met June Wayne through Dick Florsheim, and fell madly in love with
her, and vice versa. We’re both real print devotees. And we were kissing
cousins. And then June got the money from Ford to found Tamarind. And suddenly,
the prices for prints for artists that I knew that went out, for the prints
they did at Tamarind, were almost double or triple what the artist was selling
for, what I was selling the artist for. I remember Jake Landau. Jake was one
of the first ones out there. And he said he couldn’t even take a proof
to his hotel or his room to look at it, because everything had to be structured
within the rules and confines of the workshop. And then she was doing those
work in motion analysis that you do: Proofing was so many hours, this was so
many, that was so many, and printing per print. It – And I thought that
she was not producing, or getting any of the important artists – though
[Josef] Albers, I think, did work early on. But I was – then became very
– Tatyana Grosman. [Phone rings; tape stops, re-starts]

MR. COLE: Part of the politic of that era, where I was a Tatyana Grosman fan,
and whatever June did – And June had it all rigged. She had collections
of her prints placed in museums. Paid for by subscribers, of which she got about
six who gave her, I don’t know, 20,000 a year, whatever. And then they
took these fantastic tax deductions, because the prices were so much more than
what they put up. And they never saw the prints. And I guess the second year
– I think Joachim said he didn’t want ‘em anymore, or something
happened. He wanted to pick and choose; he didn’t wanna get a block. But
I think the National Gallery got ‘em, I think the Modern got ‘em,
I don’t remember. And then one year, she went to the Art Dealers Association
of America to get an appraisal on a collection. And Albert Reese – Herman
Wechsler of F.A.R. Gallery, Albert Reese of Kennedy, and Sylvan Cole were the
three – the panel of appraisers. And rather than each of us going separately,
we all met at F.A.R. Gallery. The prints were put there, and we went and evaluated
all the prints at a fraction of what June thought they were worth. And from
then on, June Wayne and Sylvan Cole were not very good friends. I told her that
I – before that, that I thought her price scale was too high, that prints
were supposed to be a democratic thing, and that’s what I believed in;
and I was selling prints from ten dollars up and – And she said, “Let
‘em buy reproductions if they can’t afford good prints.” I
never forgave her for that. And we just had a philosophical falling out. I mean,
I think I’ve only seen her – I haven’t seen her in twenty
years. That’s about all I can say about June Wayne. I – I think
she had a fortune of money given her from Ford. I do think that the only real
good that came out of it were not the prints that were produced, but the printers
that were produced. Judith Slobodkin, Jack Lemon, Ken Tyler, Gemini. I mean,
that was truly perhaps a contribution to the world of contemporary printmaking
that came to pass. But it all stemmed from the philosophy of Tatyana Grosman,
who – I mean, they stemmed. Because they got the good artists.

I don’t know if I mentioned Ellsworth Kelly.

MS. BERMAN: No.

MR. COLE: In Paris, he had done two suites of prints for Galerie Maeght. One
were these large color prints, where there’d be trapezoid with black and
yellow-black, and forms like that; and the other were the flowers and the plant
forms. I think – I do remember pretty clearly that I would buy a suite
of each of them, which may’ve been 25 or 30 prints in each, for twenty
seven dollars a print. And I came back and I was selling those in the mid-sixties
for seventy five to ninety dollars. And he came into the gallery one day and
asked to talk to me. And I was very impressed meeting him. I told him I admired
his work and all. And he said, “Well, Mr. Cole, I’ve been hoping
that I could get out to Gemini” – I think Ken was still there –
“But they feel that my retail price structure’s too low for them
to be able to work with me. And is it possible you could reconsider the selling
price of the prints?” I think by then Galerie Maeght had practically sold
out. Or he had gotten them all purchased by friends or whatever. And so I still
had the last 40 or 50 Kellys for sale at the price. So we discussed price. And
I do remember I went up to somewhere around a hundred and seventy five to two
hundred dollars. And then he did go to Gemini and he did do some prints.

MS. BERMAN: No, he only worked with Irwin Hollander and –

MR. COLE: Well, Hollander was another Wayne person.

MS. BERMAN: Now he’s with – out in L.A. The one who used to be
at Tyler, but split to – Sid.

MR. COLE: Sid Felsen, yeah.

MS. BERMAN: Right, right, right. Yeah, he did – he did a – He [Ellsworth
Kelly] was honored at the Archives benefit last year [1999], and he [Sidney
Felsen, co-founder of Gemini G.E.L.] did a little print for us. And I did an
Ellsworth Kelly print show last year.

MR. COLE: That’s nice.

MS. BERMAN: It was. It really looked great on the walls, because, you know
–

MR. COLE: I still remember that Henry Geldzahler, when he did his show and
he had Kelly right across the whole top of the [MS. BERMAN: Right] Metropolitan
Museum of Art.

MS. BERMAN: Well, Kelly – I had wanted to focus it, but he wanted –
You know how small that space is. He essentially wanted a print retrospective
in that little space. And when you have twenty to do – But we started
– We used the Paris posters, and we used some of those handmade pulp paper,
and the plant, couple – I mean, considering that I think I had seventeen
things in there, [MR. COLE: Yeah] it looked pretty good.

MR. COLE: What got us to where we are? Oh, we were talking about Wayne.

MS. BERMAN: Right, right.

MR. COLE: Yeah. So that’s all I can say about her, I – I think
she also had a highly inflated opinion on her own work. Which I thought was
fairly pedestrian, though she was a – she is a pretty good lithographer,
you know, but she never – Very symbolist type of work.

MS. BERMAN: Well, I think she’s a real force out in California on the
art scene, too. You had mentioned Albers. Did you ever –

MR. COLE: I have one little aside. My – she – Michael Mazor told
me the story about how he told June that I had bought several – bought
out several suites of his called Artist and Model. I think twenty five
of them for probably 500 dollars a suite. Something like fifteen thousand dollars.
Which was a lot of money. And of course, it was very little for all that I got.
And Shuman [ph] said, “You never should’ve sold Sylvan Cole. I mean,
he’s so niggardly in what he pays artists,” and all that. And Michael
said, “Well, he’s the only dealer that agreed to buy my work.”
Yeah, the – Michael just had a major, major, major retrospective at the
Boston Museum of Art. And I went up for the opening, partly as his guest, and
he told that story. [They laugh]

MS. BERMAN: Had you – You had mentioned Albers. Now, did you know him
or ever work…

MR. COLE: I had met him – I met him once, and I – At – at
the – It’s funny, I was handling Kelly – Now that I think
of it, I was handling Albers when those square portfolios came out. In a way,
I put myself down that I missed – in a way, I did miss. But I did have
that available at the gallery, and – And I remember Albers had a suite
of his just come up for auction – or a print, I forget – and it
went for an extraordinarily high price. And I remember asking him was –
had he been aware of the high prices that his things were fetching. And he seemed
very pleased that there was that sort of recognition. He was a lovely guy; I
remember that distinctly. And his wife was lovely. He did come to the gallery
once, I think, to buy Feininger. Because I had mentioned that I had that estate.

I always used to encourage artists to buy prints. I think Richard Haas had
a big article in the Times several years ago, in which he described going to
Sylvan Cole and saying it was such a nice thing to buy prints from him, because
I would never ask the artist to pay for ‘em; I would take it out of the
proceeds that I’d owe them as I sold their work. But – It always
fascinated me. Like, perhaps one of the best collectors was Philip Pearlstein.
And Philip ranged all over. He’d buy everything from [Frida] Kahlo to
Japanese prints, and just loved them. And he had a great eye. And I always say
to artists, “You have the eye. You know. You should collect.” And
it was – And some would, and some were just the opposite, wouldn’t
buy anything but themselves, or trade with artists. But Philip was one. Raphael
Soyer also collected.

MS. BERMAN: He had a great collection.

MR. COLE: And he had so many things that he loved and collected, he –
I remember he bought Avery from me and – Karl Schrag collected. I sold
– I guess the best thing I ever sold an artist, I sold to Alex Katz. Years
ago, he bought a Degas monotype from me, when it wasn’t a lot of money,
but he still – And I – whenever I see him, which isn’t so
often, he talks about having that monotype and – And Alex and I became
friends. It’s sad in a way. We – I notice in the art world, it’s
very difficult to maintain long, long, long friendships as different things
happen – the artist fails, or loses, or – or the museum person gets
promoted way to the sky or whatever. Like, I knew Jack Lane very well when he
was just an assistant at Brooklyn; then he became something else. And it’s
now, at my stage of life, I – I used to know so many museum directors;
now I know so few. But – I’m trying to remember my train of thought.

MS. BERMAN: It was Alex Katz.

MR. COLE: Oh, yeah. And Alex then told me that he, when he was a youngster
in New York, used to do the frames. I can’t remember the name of the framer
who did the frames for AAA. And Alex knew the – So it was just a sort
of small world coming back. And I bought prints from Alex directly. He sort
of played an independent game. I think I published one print, I don’t
remember, or published a part of an edition. But I do remember going down on
Broadway and – West Broadway to his fabulous studio and meeting Ada and
Alex when their son was just a youngster.

But artists collecting has always been interesting to me, and I’ve always
encouraged it.

MS. BERMAN: Now –

MR. COLE: Talk about collecting, Dick Florsheim dies, and one of his possessions
was a [inaudible] of Picasso, which I was in charge of as a trustee of the Florsheim
Fund, of selling; and I sold it at Christie’s probably five or six years
ago for 90 thousand dollars. And I remember discussing whether we should sell
it or not. And our financial advisor on the fund, a gentleman from Chicago,
Philip Ba – Peter Barrett, who’s with Stein Roe, Peter said, “We’re
better off having the 90 thousand now and investing it than waiting for its
potential,” since 90 thousand seemed like a high price at the time.

And it’s very interesting. We sold it and got 90 thousand net; that was
the deal with Christie’s. We got the 90 thousand, turned it over to Peter.
And I’m talking eight or nine years ago. And now there’s one coming
up at Christie’s in their sale the end of this month, or early November,
and it’s estimated at 90 to a hundred and twenty thousand. So we did the
right thing. But that was part of Dick’s collection. He had some very
– He had a lot of Mexican artists, [Jose Clemente] Orozco, [David] Siquieros.
Of course, Jake Kainen falls into that group, too.

MS. BERMAN: Right, well, he collected, and Ruth – Ruth was also collecting.
That’s how they met. The great story, they were at a lunch and he very
condescendingly turned to her, ‘cause he had been talking about German
Expressionist prints, and just condescendingly decided to explain who [Ernst
Ludwig] Kirchner was to her. And she just snapped back that she knew very well
who he was, and she happened to collect him, and – Well, that was the
beginning. He went up to see her etchings.

MR. COLE: Oh, that’s a nice story.

MS. BERMAN: It is, they got together through prints. I know it very well. And
neither of them – I don’t know, they didn’t – Neither
of them wanted to go to this lunch; their friends dragged them, and they were
next to each other. [MR. COLE: That’s funny] That’s how it started,
through prints.

MR. COLE: That’s good.

MS. BERMAN: German prints.

MR. COLE: What’s next on your agenda?

MS. BERMAN: Well, we’ve got – Now, we haven’t discussed Una
Johnson and any relationship you may have had with her, and her –

MS. BERMAN: Well, Una was amazing. She was the dominant print curator of contemporary
prints all through the – my early stages of the late forties into the
– And certainly, when I came back, in 1958 on, she was everything. She
had the power, with her biennials, to almost dictate what the print world was
all about. And it was the time when the printmaker was in a world of itself,
as opposed to the painter, who were doing abstract expressionist work. And because
of that, we always presumed, that sort of imagery, they could never make prints,
they would never be printmakers. So the world of the painter, until Tatyana
Grosman really started getting these painters to make prints for the first time
– And the world of the printmakers was theirs. And she championed –
championed three artists: Gabor Peterdi, Mauricio Lazansky, and Antonio Frasconi;
those were the big three [MS. BERMAN: For Una] in the print world. And it wasn’t
just for Una, it was the way life was. And getting in the Brooklyn was a major,
major accomplishment. And she was the dictator.

In 1959 – I had been director of Associated American Artists all of one
year – I decided for their 25th anniversary of AAA, we would have a print
competition. And we would offer a prize – I think it was two thousand
dollars, which was tremendous – for the best print submitted. And there
would also be purchase awards. And my jury was Hyatt Mayor; Bill Collins, who
was then at Knoedler’s, who subsequently became director of the –
What’s the nice, wonderful museum in Massachusetts that’s not in
Boston, not – right in the middle?

MS. BERMAN: Worcester?

MR. COLE: No. Clark.

MS. BERMAN: Oh.

MR. COLE: Yeah, Clark Museum.

MS. BERMAN: Clark Institute.

MR. COLE: Whatever.

MS. BERMAN : Right.

MR. COLE: He became director of that, from Knoedler’s, when Knoedler’s
changed hands; and Una Johnson. Una ran the show. And the first prize went to
Gabor Peterdi for Triumph of Weed and – Yeah, I think it was
two thousand dollars, because we got an edition of a hundred prints, I think,
for that. Which, when you think of it, was twenty bucks a print. But then I
picked some purchase awards. I remember Mervyn Jules, Luigi Lucioni, Werner
Drewes. Can’t remember the others. There were several. But Una was very
autocratic about – She knew these artists.

I remember in a subsequent competition – I think I ran it for two or
three years, I don’t know why. But Al Blaustein got first prize of two
thousand dollars for a print that she had rejected from her biennial. And I
was not the jury at that time.

MS. BERMAN: Did her influence last, or did it fade? I mean, what – what
was the situation?

MR. COLE: Well, it lasted until she retired. And even after that, she was always
around. I remember I used to go up to Karl Schrag’s for dinner with Karl
and Ilsa, and Una’d be there, occasionally Sally Avery. You know, it was
wonderful to be there. They had this wonderful house on 95th Street. And it’s
so amazing – I just sold a lady who was with Citibank – Citibank,
the art consultant – Oh, what’s her name? Heavyset. Anyway, it’ll
come to me. But she came in and wanted to get a Benton for a guy who was going
away. This lady knew about it, and she wanted to see the three Bentons that
this woman had made notes of. Suzanne Lemakis. Do you know her?

MS. BERMAN: Only over the telephone. I had to get permission to publish something
that they own, but I’ve never met her.

MR. COLE: Well, anyway. So this lady – The art world’s a small
thing. So she – I put three aside. She comes in, we get to talking, and
she gives me her address, and I said, “Oh, Karl Schrag lived up there.”
She said, “Yes, right across the street from me.” And what –
and she knew them very well. And she had gone to his memorial service. And I
said I spoke, so – [Laughs] It was just a complete aside, but it’s
always amazing how small the art world is. I was in Rochester, and they have
an appraisal day at the fair in the morning, on Sunday. And this guy comes in
with a Martin Lewis. And it was a print I knew very well called Chance Meeting.
And I turn it over; on the back is a certificate of authenticity from Associated
American Artists, signed by me. At 605 Fifth, which meant that it had to be
prior to 1968. Is that a – [MS. BERMAN: Yeah] There’s a print –
[Laughs]

MS. BERMAN: Did – did he realize that you were the same person who’d
signed that?

MR. COLE: He didn’t realize the certificate was there; he had never thought
much about it.

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. That – that is – that is quite –

MR. COLE: Funny.

MS. BERMAN: Now, how about – how about Riva Castleman, where does she
fit in here?

MR. COLE: Riva fits in as perhaps being a curator – being what a curator
should be. After she got to the Modern from Chicago as Bill’s assistant,
she was really sort of mouse[?], and not very much until Bill got kicked upstairs,
and suddenly she became the curator. And – Her dealings with AAA were
not very much. If I had something contemporary or early avant garde, like the
Werner Drewes – She was busy with Grosman and Wayne and all the workshop
new stuff that was coming out. And that – [Bell] that was her –
[tape stops, re-starts]

MR. COLE: I used to resent Riva at first. But then I realized that Riva was
doing a fabulous job by getting and judging and evaluating the contemporary
material as it was being produced. And she did – she – And in a
way, that’s what a curator’s supposed to do. They’re supposed
to be with their time, and – It’s my only excuse for even talking
to a Whitney curator. [Laughs] But you know, I mean, I think philosophically,
that you live within your time. And whether you’re a dealer or a curator
or what, I think collectors have a moment of time, and they can’t go beyond
it. I think art writers sort of have their moment. I – I think almost
any honest person in the art business or the art world has that moment of time
where they’re comfortable, they’re – they’re knowledgeable,
they evaluate well. And I always say it’s so easy to be avant garde; you
can just embrace any new thing. But to be honest with yourself – I know
my moment of time, in a way, in American prints, stopped at 1960. I think beyond
that, I have regard and respect for some of the major, major printmakers that
came in in the sixties and on; but it was never something that I loved. I mean,
my heart wasn’t there. I mean, I – I did a lot. I know there were
– there – Bob Motherwell did a print called Red Sea, which
just blew my mind. I just absolutely fell in love with it, I mean – And
– I – Harry Abrams published it. I think I – Out of the edition
of – of forty or – out of the edition of a hundred, maybe, I must’ve
bought thirty or forty of them. And I sold them, and I got another order. Harry
Abrams was sold out. And I remember calling Bob, and he sold me three or four
of the artists proofs. And then I asked him where to send the check, and he
said, “Oh, no, keep it; I’ll come in and buy something else.”
Which never happened, but he ended up saying, “Oh, Sylvan, I don’t
have time; send me the check.”

Oh, he also pissed me off, because he said, “Now you’re making
a lot of money and – compared to what you paid me.” I said, “Bob,
I sold ‘em for exactly what I told you I’d sell ‘em for. And
I – I said, “I am sending you my invoices.” And I sent him
copies of the three invoices of the proofs that I said. And I sent him a check.
We made up. We used to play poker. He was a good poker player. The poker games,
I think I told about, in Provincetown.

MS. BERMAN: Well, you said you –

MR. COLE: It was Bob Motherwell; Dick Florsheim; Lily Harmon’s third
or fourth husband, the framer; Joe Kaplan, painter; the guy who ran Here Comes
Everybody Gallery up in Provincetown [Al Hansen]. A really amazing mix. A fun
game, I’ll tell you. It wasn’t too expensive, but I then played
occasionally at Edith Hunter’s [ph], Sam Hunter’s ex after they
split. Bob was always there. I forget who all was in that game, but suddenly
it got – Bob got into really expensive games. He wasn’t interested
in the little pickup games anymore.

MS. BERMAN: Oh. Well, what we haven’t discussed, actually, is that the
– the Whitney and prints, and just in terms of them not having a curator
– I mean, in terms of the museum and its very checkered history as to
prints. And perhaps we should discuss, you know, your deal, as the, you know,
Amer –, the museum that would be most receptive to your material, I think
we should sort of start from the beginning there.

MR. COLE: Well, there is hardly a beginning, because – Mack Doty did
a show a long time ago – probably in the late sixties, early seventies
– in which it was, I think, all prints. I forget the thrust. Then somebody
else curated a Precisionist show. And everything was – Jack Bower [ph]
was the first one I got involved with. It wasn’t Jack Bower.

MS. BERMAN: Lloyd?

MR. COLE: Well, I knew Lloyd, but Lloyd didn’t have much interest in
prints. But – It was very sporadic. I don’t remember their buying
very much of anything – not until Judy Goldman became their advisor. And
Judy would run around the day before the acquisition, or two days before the
acquisition meeting, and say, “Sylvan, I want this, this, this and this.
We’ll send a truck man to pick it up, present it,” and often sold.
I know that was more from Sylvan Cole Gallery than Associated American Artists.
I remember the first big purchase they made was Spruance. They bought some Lozowick
from me. But Judy also was going into the contemporary. But she always had a
hand in – with the historic. Like that print, they have the painting.

MS. BERMAN: Right.

MR. COLE: And then I had the print. She bought it from somebody else.

MS. BERMAN: For the tape, we’re talking about Dempsey and Firpo,
[MR. COLE: Yeah] George Bellows.

MR. COLE: Yeah. Anyway, she finally – When she resigned, then David Kiehl
was the perfect person for the job, and David got it [in 1996]. And I guess
over the years, I’ve sold David odds and ends of prints that he sort of
sees and decides the museum should have. It’s never been a – He,
too, has been sort of all over the map in his buying and presenting, but he’s
– He knows what he wants, and he’s got a wish list, and he gave
it to me, and every so often, I’ll find a good print on the wish list.
He’s – he’s erratic, in the sense that he always has too much
on his plate. I mean, I’m sitting with three prints that he wanted, goodness
knows, from West Coast WPA. I got this collection of twenty WPA prints from
the West Coast at an auction in Butterfield. I didn’t even know what I
had. But David came down and – And I documented it, because they all had
labels on the back of who the art – David took my documentation, he added
voluminous notes of full names, of years, of who they were. And there are three
prints in that group that he wants for the Whitney, and God knows when he’ll
get around to even asking for them or whatever. And I think he’s just
forgotten, and I forget to tell him about it.

But I did sell the Whitney – Oh, the first attempt I made to the Whitney
was when Judith was still advisor, when I attempted to sell them the complete
Stuart Davis prints, with accompanying drawings.

MS. BERMAN: That would be a natural.

MR. COLE: And – This was probably the – ‘78, ‘79, I’m
guessing. Tom Armstrong was director, and a good friend. I think I wanted eighty,
ninety thousand dollars. I had already arranged for them to have bought Barbershop
Chord, Sixth Avenue El – [Phone rings; tape stops, re-starts]

MS. BERMAN: You had arranged for them to buy –

MR. COLE: For them to buy Sixth Avenue El, Barbershop Chord,
Two Figures & El, and Fiddler on the Beach. And this is
– I think it was a ridiculous price. Fifteen thousand dollars. I mean,
I’ve sold Barbershop Chord for eighty. And Mrs. Davis would give
them Composition 1931, so they’d’ve had all five 1931 prints.
So when I came to them with a full collection, they already had the key prints.
And – But I had all the accompanying drawings. And I said that I would
then serve as agent for them to sell the others, at some commission rate. Patterson
Sims I think offered me something like fifty thousand bucks for the lot, and
that was insulting. So then I took Tom Armstrong – I remember I rented
a car. We went over the Verrazano Bridge to the Museum of Staten Island, where
a Stuart Davis scholar teaches – she’s probably in her sixties,
or late –

MS. BERMAN: Oh, you’re talking about Diane Kelder.

MR. COLE: Diane Kelder. Diane Kelder had organized the Stuart Davis show for
out there, and took the whole thing from me. And so Tom and I went out there,
and he saw the whole thing on the walls and – Nothing came of it. And
this is very disjointed, because it isn’t in sequential order, but that
was a – I ended up selling it to the Amon Carter for 200 thousand dollars.
And they got a bargain.

MS. BERMAN: Right, then you did the –

MR. COLE: And of course, it was – The Whitney should’ve bought
it. The next thing I got, which I couldn’t sell the Amon Carter, I got
a complete [Charles] Burchfield together, of published prints. And that consisted
of the three lithographs that Burchfield did, and the eleven or twelve wood
engravings that were cut by Lankes, the woodcuts, I think, cut by Lankes from
drawing on a block by Burchfield. I could not sell that to the Amon Carter,
because that was the period where the Amon Carter was broke, having just bought
a [Albert] Bierstadt and [Thomas] Eakins. So – Out of the blue, walks
in about – [Phone rings; tape stops, re-starts]

MR. COLE: Out of the blue, a friend brings in a completely unknown Burchfield.
Print, lithograph, with CB. But in there is the cartouche that Burchfield has.
It’s a Burchfield. I brought David Kiehl; he looks at it, and he knows
it’s a Burchfield. We both can show where it relates to drawings that
he did at the time. We dated it. And I took it to the Print Fair, with the idea
that it would only go to a museum. And finally I decided the right museum was
the Whitney. So I put the package together of the wood engravings – by
then, the lithographs had been sold – and this unknown lithograph. And
it was fifty thousand dollars; I figured it was worth seventy. Sixty five, seventy.
Special price to the Whitney, fifty. And they finally bought it. But it took
a year of hard negotiating work. And I know that this has been a problem with
the Whitney, from other dealers, where they’ve had major collections purchased
by the Whitney and just – just ambivalence and – and – Well,
now, there’s been a change of director from the guy on the West Coast
to Maxwell Anderson. I have very little to do selling them. And I sell nothing
to the Met anymore. Colta [Ives], for some reason – Her money all goes
into rare old master prints, or things like that, and occasionally very contemporary.
And I never seem to have anything that they need. They have a woman named Elliott
Davis, that – the so-called American prints, took David’s job over.
But I find the Met print area very moribund. They – very little is happening.
I don’t know if anybody sees them or sells them.

MS. BERMAN: It just had occurred to me, had you – did you ever meet Hopper
or have anything to do with him?

MR. COLE: Hopper, sure.

MS. BERMAN: Well, I think we should –

MR. COLE: Hopper – I had always wanted to get some Hopper prints. And
– He used to say, “Oh, I have hardly anything left, and nothing,
you know, I wanna sell.” And one day, I was at a wedding of Peter Pollock,
who was director of the American Federation of Arts, to Kreely and I went to
the wedding at Cornelia Otis Skinner’s apartment on 65th and Lexington.
And I think – I forget who all was there. I think there was Jack Levine
and Ruth Gikow; and Edward and Jo Hopper. It was a very small wedding party;
I don’t think there were twenty of –

[BEGIN TAPE FIVE, SIDE ONE]

MS. BERMAN: – interviewing Sylvan Cole on October 17th, 2000, at his
gallery at 101 West 57th Street. And today we’ll be starting out where
we left off last week, which is you were – You were beginning to tell
me how you met Edward Hopper.

MR. COLE: Peter Pollock was a good friend of mine. I knew him shortly after
he came East from the Art Institute. I met him through Dick Florsheim. And Peter
eventually became director of the American Federation of Arts for one year.
Peter got married to Kreely, whose maiden name I don’t remember, whom
he met in Texas on an AFA junket that he headed. And the wedding party was at
the home of Cornelia Otis Skinner, which was on 66th and Lex, or 65th and Lex,
in those wonderful duplex apartments heading toward Third, on the south side
of the street. I know Gordon Grant lived in one of those at one time. I don’t
remember all who were at the wedding reception, but I don’t think it was
much more than twenty to thirty people at most. But the Hoppers were there,
both Josie and Edward. I know Ruth Gikow and Jack Levine were there, and an
assorted group that I should remember, but I don’t. And they were all
pretty prominent, either as artists or in the art world.

I remember sitting with Josie in the duplex living room, with the portrait
of Otis Skinner by Sargent over the fireplace, this immense expanse. There was
the fireplace, and then there was the big portrait, and there was just air all
around; it was a huge room. So I attacked Josie again, and said how much I’m
still wanting to get some etchings from her husband. And I’d been wanting
to do this for years. I’d spoken to him a few times by phone; he grunted
and no, he didn’t have anything for sale. Anyway, I do recall her saying,
“You like his work?” And I – I remember her sort of being
surprised, and she said, “Don’t you think it’s cold? Very
cold? As cold as he looks?” Or something to that effect, and – And
I think Gail Levin mentioned some of that in her book, though I don’t
– I never read Gail’s book, but I – I do know that Josie also
was an artist, and she was possibly interested in my seeing some of her work.
But when I told her I specialize only in prints, that dropped the whole thing.

There was no sense in trying to talk to Hopper. I mean, all he did was grunt.
And very stoop-shouldered, and – Very big man. And very powerful in –
in his demeanor. But that’s my only memory.

MS. BERMAN: Well, which –

MR. COLE: An aside, of course, is that Peter was sort of Cornelia’s stud
for years and years and years, and that was a relationship that started in Chicago
and went on for a long period of time.

MS. BERMAN: But she – but she gave the wedding there, just – even
though he was marrying someone else?

MR. COLE: Oh, sure, they were – They – they always stayed friends.
And I just fell in love with her. What a big, wonderful, ballsy woman. Yeah,
I do recall seeing her a few times afterwards and – In fact, I can’t
recall the occasion, but I do remember somewhere along the line, she either
was a guest of mine at some party or something, and I do remember introducing
my parents to her, and my dad was very impressed.

MS. BERMAN: Now, when you said – When – when Jo said, “Well,
don’t you think his work is cold,” what did you – what –
Can you remember –

MR. COLE: I don’t recall answering it. I just thought – I said,
“I think his work is wonderful.” You know – I was sort of
caught off guard. [Laughs]

MS. BERMAN: Mm-hm. Well, right, exactly, ‘cause it was such a telling
remark. But it’s – but a truthful one.

MR. COLE: Yeah.

MS. BERMAN: So did you ever get any Hopper etchings?

MR. COLE: Never. No, I remember I got several in the late sixties from the
Whitney Museum, that sold me their duplicates or – I worked on a commission
basis, I don’t remember, at Associated American Artists. And in those
days, I think the prices were somewhere in the three thousand dollar area; whereas
some of the ones I sold are now selling at sixty to ninety thousand.

MS. BERMAN: Now, the other thing – You had said you wanted to mention
something. You had said you wanted to talk about Karl Fortess.

MR. COLE: Oh, yes. Karl Fortess had the reputation of being Yas Kuniyoshi’s
little puppy dog. And he absolutely revered Yas, and they were really very close
friends. After Yas died, I got to know Karl, and he would come around the gallery.
He, I think, was the world’s least salable artist. He just painted dead
trees, made prints of abandoned farms and dead trees and that sort of thing,
and – One day we decided that I would publish a print of his and he was
going to Europe. So he sent me some proofs that he had done in Europe, and I
picked one out. It was a color lithograph. And I told him which one I would
buy a hundred of and how much I would pay him. And he had a hundred printed,
and either shipped it or brought ‘em with him when he came back. Was a
relatively small print, I think. Somewhere like eight by ten or nine by twelve.
I think the retail price on it was something like twenty five or thirty dollars.
And I asked him what to do with the proofs. And he said, “Well, you go
ahead and sell the proofs for whatever you think is right.” I said, “Well,
what price do you think I should put on ‘em?” He said, “That
– You’re the expert. He said, “But I’d rather not sell
them at a high price than not sell them at a low price.”

He finally persuaded me to have a one person show. And it was a bomb. And I
was so embarrassed. I think the prices ran from fifteen to maybe a hundred dollars,
at most. And based on how many proofs there were, and things like that. And
I think there must’ve been sixty pieces in the show. And I did a catalogue.
And I was so embarrassed that we had only sold two or three that I purchased
ten, at 50% off the selling price, so that I could send Karl a check of some
amount. And I remember his writing me saying that he got the check, and thanking
me, and I had put him in a whole new tax bracket. [MS. BERMAN Laughs]

He was an absolutely charming guy, and he went on to decide to tape the artists,
which I gather the Archives have these tapes and – He was very serious
about it. And I always felt that from his description of the kind of taping
he was doing – An artist interviewing another artist had the perception,
had sort of the level ground that each were on. And I’m sure that these
tapes probably go into greater depths to most artists than a critic or historian
might get out of another artist. Is that so?

MS. BERMAN: Yes and no. The questions are good, but most of the time it’s
only one tape. And two, he’s intrusive, in that it is a conversation rather
than an interview, so he interrupts before the person is done occasionally,
‘cause he does get interested in what somebody has to say, so he contributes.
And there’s nothing wrong with that, but we can’t do that in an
interview. You – In – in this sort of – In an oral history,
you must learn to shut up and wait until the person is finished, or you will
lose a lot. And it’s better to have silences than to cut the person off.
Or even so-called rambling is better. But that’s – But he wasn’t
a professional interviewer, but – but I hear – I have heard a few
of these, and he gets great stuff, but in the middle he cuts them off, and he
doesn’t even know he’s doing it. But it’s still a –

MR. COLE: Well, I’ve never heard any of the tapes.

MS. BERMAN: Right.

MS. BERMAN: Well, if you –

MR. COLE: Yeah, I should hear some. Bringing up Karl, who was Woodstock, reminds
me of another anecdote, which had to do with Julio de Diego. Julio was also
Woodstock. And Julio was probably the homeliest, most attractive man you can
imagine. There was a charisma about him. And he always had some very nubile,
attractive woman around. Usually in her twenties, maybe as old as in her thirties,
but I think mostly in her twenties. Usually tall, statuesque, blonde, very large
bosomed and large featured – Julio was one of the first artists, I guess,
back in the early sixties, that used to come and drop into the gallery. And
we’d chat. And one day he showed me a small screen print – again,
about eight by ten, nine by twelve – of sort of a voluptuous, curvilinear
couple, as best I recall it. And it was sort of a black and white print. And
he said to me – I said, “What do you want me to do?” He said,
“I’d like you to buy the edition.” I said, “What did
you plan to do?” And he said, “A hundred.” I said, “Well,
I’ll pay you five dollars apiece, five hundred dollars, and I’ll
probably retail at around twenty five dollars, and give my special customers
the price of twenty dollars.” So he agreed to that. And he went off, and
about two or three weeks later he called me. He said he had the edition, could
I come in? I said, “Of course,” and he came in, he brought the edition.
And he said, “You gotta pay me eight dollars apiece; I added two colors.”
So sure enough, he had added a green and a red or something, and I said, “Ok,
I’ll pay you eight dollars.” But it was so funny to see him, “Yo,
you gotta pay me eight dollars; I added two colors.”

Julio, I think I mentioned, was also part of the Woodstock poker game, and
the few times I played, Julio – It was usually a nickel and dime game,
and if Julio put in a nickel, you knew damn well he either had four of a kind
or a straight flush, [MS. BERMAN Laughs] because he would not gamble unless
he was a sure winner.

MS. BERMAN: That’s very interesting, what you said about his female companionship.
You know, at one point, he was married to Gypsy Rose Lee.

MR. COLE: Sure, I remember.

MS. BERMAN: He was also a surrealist, too. He was out in Chicago –

MR. COLE: Oh, yeah.

MS. BERMAN: Yeah.

MR. COLE: Well, he was another part of Peter Pollock’s good friends.
Yeah. And that’s – Through him, I met Kiriki, the daughter, and
– And I did meet Gypsy Rose a few times. In fact, to this day –
Lillyan, my second wife, who passed away in 1987, always wore big hats. And
Doyle [ph] had a sale of Gypsy Rose Lee’s possessions after her death
[Lee’s possessions were auctioned off by Sotheby Parke-Berret in Los Angeles,
March 10, 1971]. And there was a shoebox full of hatpins, which I bought for,
I think, 200 dollars. And mostly glass and – big things. And I still remember
I – After I bought it, I spoke with one of the girls in the gallery, Susan
Teller, who’s now a dealer in her own right. And she said, “Well,
now you’ve gotta get some hatpin holders.” Well, I didn’t
even know what a hatpin holder looked like. And that started a collection of
about twenty-some-odd hatpin holders, which I’ve acquired over a long
period of years. The key to a hatpin holder is that it looks like a salt or
sugar shaker. It’s about five inches high, and it’s got a lotta
holes on the top. But it doesn’t have a hole at the bottom. If it has
a hole in the bottom, it’s probably a salt shaker or a sugar shaker. If
it doesn’t have a hole at the bottom, it’s a hatpin holder. And
interestingly enough, just the past three years, they’ve been making hatpin
holders to look like antiques, either in China or Japan, and putting it on the
market.

MS. BERMAN: Now, Sylvan, there’s something that I realized, I don’t
think we have this absolutely sort of straight, was when you left Associated
American Artists, I don’t quite understand why you decided to get out
of art and go into another field.

MR. COLE: Oh, way back in the –

MS. BERMAN: Yeah right, in the fifties.

MR. COLE: Oh, that’s a part of my life that I never talk about. But I
did leave Associated American Artists. I started there in ‘46, and I left
about ‘51. Or ‘52. Let’s see, I got married in ‘43.
I guess it was – I’d been married about seven or eight years, and
I fell in love with somebody that was working at Associated American Artists.
I had split with my wife and three kids. It was a bad break. And I was living
on – a hotel, I can’t remember the name of it – Latham, something
like that – on 27th Street between Fifth and Madison. And I needed a job
that would pay more money. So through my father, who was in the men’s
business, menswear business, I got a job with a company called Berk-Ray B-E-R-K,
hyphen, R-A-Y – which manufactured men’s outerwear. Jackets and
things like that. And they had a factory in Troy, New York and in Cordele, Georgia
– C-O-R-D-E-L-E. And I got a job there, and handled relations with the
salespeople, and then I got put into writing the orders for the factories, because
we had set up a very, very early IBM computer system, which is so primitive.
I mean, this huge computer. And we would feed into it all the orders, with the
sizes that were wanted, and we would accumulate a certain number of a certain
style, and then I would tell the factory to produce it And I had to keep these
two factories running. It was a major, major job. It meant coordinating piece
goods with the needs of the factory and all the rest of it, buttons, zippers,
whatever. And it was not a comfortable period for me, because the families,
owners would compete with each other. And I remember they criticized that this
kid, Sylvan Cole, who knew nothing about anything, was really running these
factories. That’s all sort of irrelevant. But I did this.

And then Reeves Lewenthal, who had sold Associated American Artists to Albert
Landry, became president of Russkraft Greeting Cards through a funny twist of
events that I can’t recall right now. And he decided that there were lots
of prints left from the old AAA, and that maybe a gallery devoted to prints
run by Sylvan Cole might make sense, and he – So I left Russkraft. I know
at that point, I was offered by Reeves probably twenty five thousand a year
or something like that, which was so much better than what I was getting.

MS. BERMAN: You left – You didn’t leave Russkraft –

MR. COLE: I mean I left –

MS. BERMAN: Berk-Ray.

MR. COLE: Berk-Ray. And it was 1958. I was forty years old. And it was a really
life begins at forty. I rented space at 605 Fifth Avenue, which is right between
48th and 49th, took a floor-through. It was nine thousand dollars a year rent.
I got all the inventory. And then I started calling up the artists that I knew
and were friendly with. Soyer and Lucioni, Hirsch and a bunch of others. I think
I – I covered that aspect of it in a previous tape. But those five years
were just a gap in my life. It’s – I don’t even refer to it
in any of my bios; I act as if I was started at AAA in 1946 and became president
in 1958.

MS. BERMAN: But now, were you at – But you were hired by Reeves to, in
other words, he was – What I don’t understand is even though he’d
sold AAA, he was still controlling it?

MR. COLE: Oh, yes, ‘cause – That was a very awkward period. I started
and what – ‘Course, I knew Albert Landrey. And what I – So
there were two Associated American Artists. One was paintings and the other
– And I ran Associated American Artists Print.

MS. BERMAN: Ah.

MR. COLE: And I think that went on for about a year, when Albert just decided
to change to the Albert Landry Gallery, so there was only one Associated American
Artists. But for about at year, it was not – it was pretty sticky, a little
confusing. Never bothered me, but I know it bothered Albert. And so I ended
up with the name, with evidently, Reeves had the right to do. I mean, he had
sold Albert the paintings part; Albert did not want the prints. And that’s
what he got from Reeves, for a very modest amount of money. And Reeves had hoped
that Albert would hold this stable of artists; but Albert got rid of most of
them and brought in the own artists the he thought were more important. So that’s
what went on that – I guess ‘58, ‘59 at most.

MS. BERMAN: Well, what kinds of changes do you feel, you know, I guess the
most important changes that once you were, you know, on your own and running
it, that you were making there?

MR. COLE: Well, I had – I had sort of a carte blanche situation. I must
say I made a profit from the first year I took over. We never, never lost money.
It grew quickly. But I would say Reeves’ involvement with it didn’t
go on for more than two or three years, when he was replaced as president of
Russkraft by other people. Associated American Artists was a wholly owned subsidiary.
The Berkman family were the principal owners of Russkraft and Associated American
Artists. I do remember how it happened. Evidently, the man who ran Russkraft
had designers. And they would design Christmas cards and greeting cards. And
then they would be produced in America, but I think there was also a production
operation in Canada, in which the then president of Russkraft owned the Canadian
operation. Canada got all the artwork at no cost, and the profits went to him.
And through a stockholder’s injunction, which went into court, the president
was kicked out. And the Berkman family bought up shares, and Reeves became president.
And that’s when he, shortly thereafter, came to me to take over a moribund
AAA that had existed in a warehouse on 42nd Street, right off Eighth Avenue,
toward Ninth, where the mailroom had gone and – mailing list. And 17,000
five dollars prints that hadn’t been sold. Which fortunately, there were
some Grant Woods in there, there were some Bentons, there were [Ivan] Albrights,
Kuniyoshi. I mean, strange as it may seem, among the most important prints AAA
had ever produced, there were still remainders of five, ten, twelve, whatever.
And that was the material, plus putting out immediately a catalogue. And by
‘59, or ‘60, I made my first trips to Europe. All with Reeves’
encouragement, with a budget of, like, 10,000 dollars. And I would then come
back with all sorts of Renoir restrikes, Cassatt restrikes, anything I could
get in multiples, and – But the gallery prospered right away. I mean,
evidently, there was a need for what had been lost for those few years, five
years. And I hit it right. I mean, the sixties were a boom period for the print
world, and then it boomed on through the seventies and eighties.

MS. BERMAN: Well what made you decide to sort of, you know, to become the Sylvan
Cole Gallery?

MR. COLE: In 1979, there was no longer a Russkraft. It became another company,
merged in with all of the Berkman holdings, which included radio and television
stations. And Associated American Artists was part of this conglomerate. And
in 1979, Marshall Berkman, who was then the son of Lou Berkman, a Harvard Business
School graduate, became my boss. And he took over the greeting card business.
And the radio and television was run, I think, out of Pittsburgh. He was up
outside of Boston. And he sold the company. He sold it to Ziff-Davis. At that
juncture, Marshall’s father Lou – Those two were on one side. Marshall
– Lou’s brother Jack and his son Miles got into a family feud. Jack,
I gather, was in Italy when Marshall sold it. He was on the board of directors.
“How come he could sell it without my knowing?” And he rushed back
and he – “Booah, you can’t sell this without my approval.”
Well, this went on; it was an embarrassment. [Phone rings; tape stops, re-starts]

MR. COLE: So that – it was a big embarrassment. I mean, it was very awkward.
I mean, Wall Street was sort of thinking: What’s the matter with this?
Anyway, to make a long story short, I think Ziff agreed to pay another few dollars
per share. And he made the whole thing private. In other words, whoever owned
stock got money. It wasn’t a stock exchange or anything. And I remember
meeting with Bill Ziff, who turned out to be a pretty dynamic sort of a guy,
and I explained what I did, and said I would like to continue; that I was a
professional in the business; and it was a business that you had to develop,
depended on trust. I mean, it was unbelievable what I could have done if I were
a dishonest person. I mean, take an inventory; nobody knew a Chagall from a
– from a piece of something that was worth nothing. So he said, “Don’t
worry, Mr. Cole, you’ll stay on.” But in the final settlement, Associated
American Artists, the stock that Marshall had bought in telecommunications,
and – I don’t know if it’s all the radio stations or one or
two, became a company called Associated Communications Corporation. Its value,
I remember distinctly, was six million dollars. And AAA was two million of the
six. I remember I had to meet with all sorts of Wall Street types to –
who evaluated what Associated American Artists was worth. I would show inventory,
I would explain, I would do this and that. So Associated Communications, so
– that was given to Jack Berkman’s son. That was the bone. And Miles
Berkman became my boss. Marshall Berkman went on into a totally different business,
went back to Pittsburgh. And Marshall eventually, he got killed in that plane
crash, the U.S. Air crash right outside of Pittsburgh.

Anyway, this is 1979. Jack, Miles meet with me. I remember they met up in my
apartment. We discussed everything, my role and how I’d go on, and everything
was hunky-dory. I explained the whole operation from A to Z. And off they went.
And suddenly – It went pretty well, ‘79, ‘80. What am I saying?
When did I leave? ‘83. It was five years. ‘79 and ‘80. By
‘81, suddenly I was involved with three or four meetings a year, where
I would meet with Jack, Miles, Jack’s wife – by then he had remarried
Lillian Berkman – four of us, at Canada House, where they had an office
for Jack; and the other office was in Pittsburgh. And they were awkward meetings,
as if I were challenged; was I doing this right? Why did I buy this? Should
– and this didn’t sell. I – You know, it was very uncomfortable
meetings, I – It sort of got worse. And I think I refused to go to one
once. Because I had asked for a raise and Miles wouldn’t give it to me.
And so then I just took it. So that caused a little thing. And one day I said
to Miles, I said, “You don’t like what I’m doing, fire me.”
Well, they really couldn’t fire me. I mean, there was no way. Nobody –
I knew everything. I knew where things were. Nobody else knew. Things that I
had bought and squirreled away in file drawers. And values of things, what things
were worth. I mean, I set the prices, I did the buying, I did all this. Whether
it was a Max Beckmann or a Munch or a Lautrec or whatever.

So our lease was up. A ten year lease. Let’s see, ‘68 to ‘78,
and then it was a five year lease to ‘83, at 663 Fifth Avenue. And the
lease was up in ‘83. So ‘82 was sort of looking around, where we
could go to. I think we knew we could not stay where we were, because they had
other plans for the space. And I found a wonderful space right opposite the
New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue. That was pooh-poohed. It was a dangerous
area. The steps of the public library, you know; bums were hanging out and stuff
and – And I kept trying to sell it because it was large – equal
large space, seven or eight thousand square feet; comparable or lower rent;
and right near Grand Central and Penn Station. And we did a huge, huge business
with all the suburbs, the people coming in. And it was convenient to Manhattan,
too, New Yorkers.

Anyway, things just got sticky. And I’m not sure what happened, except
I do know I had a five year contract – only contract, employment contract,
I’d ever had in my life – which went from ‘78 to ‘83.
And in 1982, around September or October, I asked for a renewal of the contract.
I did not want to go through the move to a new location and not have a contract.
It would just – put out all that work and all that effort and everything.
And they refused to give me a new contract. So I said, “In that case,
I resign.” And there was dead silence. And I have a feeling that Miles
was in seventh heaven. He finally got this one bone in his side removed. Or
thorn in his side. And I would say it took ‘em one day to suddenly have
four people show up from the Pittsburgh office to take inventory. Make sure
that Sylvan Cole wasn’t gonna go running out with –

So they show up, and I call Miles, I say, “What the hell is this all
about?” He said, “Oh, we gotta take inventory. You’re leaving,
and –” And I said, “Alright, but how are they gonna know how
to take inventory? Who’s gonna show ‘em how?” I said, “I
don’t have time.” It was October or November. I said, “I’m
still here. I’m not resigning until the end of the year,” that was
my arrangement, “And we’ve got a Christmas season going.”
I said, “I have no time with them, and neither does my staff.” So
I gave them a desk and I opened one of my drawers of 200, 300 unidentified old
masters. And I handed it down and I said, “Go ahead and take inventory.”
Walked away. Well, they lasted less than a day. And I said, “We can take
inventory between Christmas and New Year.” And that’s what was done.
Came out clean as a whistle. All our inventories were absolutely correct. I
mean, we never – I – I – I always could account for everything.
We were on a computer, we had a printout. I could always account for everything
we had. Occasionally, there’d be a print that we just misled – mislaid
or something and couldn’t find. All my editions that I bought, if I bought
a hundred prints, I put in 95. And cost ‘em the same as a hundred. If
I bought 200 prints, I put in a hundred and eighty five or something. So I always
had a cushion, because with full editions, there could be damage, there could
be things. We always came out having more inventory than the books had, because
if you added in the cushions. And all I know –

But the behavior on the part of the Berkmans was unbelievable, I – I
could not take prints that I owned out of the gallery. I could take it after
everything was settled. After – I think the deadline was January first;
I think I stayed on ‘til the 10th or 15th, because there was cleanup to
do. And that was the end, the last check I got. My bonus for 1982 was cut by
ten or fifteen thousand dollars – very meaningful money to me at that
point – based on the fact that orders had been written but hadn’t
been paid for. They charged me 12,500 or 15,000 for the fee paid to the headhunters
that were to replace – find somebody to replace me. And they paid so much
in ‘82 and so much in ‘83, and they put that as an expense in ‘82
against – So I even paid for –

MS. BERMAN: How so?

MR. COLE: They just put it on the books, and so that – it decreased the
profit. And my bonus was based on pre-tax profit, where I got 10% of the pre-tax
profit. So if it was 15,000, that was fifteen hundred dollars out of my pocket
that I paid for a head hunter. They took off in sales 50, 60 thousand dollars
that hadn’t been paid. I mean, I – I had sold a Lautrec to Pace
in December for ten or twelve thousand; of course it wasn’t paid yet.
But they said, “Well, it wasn’t a sale.” They did everything
to screw me. It was really unbelievable!

MS. BERMAN: Did you contest any of this?

MR. COLE: Of course I did. But I couldn’t, you know, I couldn’t
fight them; I was single, I had modest savings, modest bank. You know, I really
had – couldn’t go against them on a legal premise. In fact –
And then of course – The thing that really hit ‘em, I guess, was
that I stayed the member of the Art Dealers Association of America. Associated
American Artists was out.

MS. BERMAN: Good. [Laughs]

MR. COLE: And that bothered them really very much, the thought of – But
they went on, they were very happy. They got space over at 20 West 57th, and
they – they made a fiasco; they had a Columbia architect do a rotunda
–

[BEGIN TAPE FIVE, SIDE TWO]

MR. COLE: And there was, you know, real animosity between – Even my old
friends, the staff there, you know, they – they weren’t supposed
to talk to me. I was not supposed to be let in. I could see the exhibitions;
they couldn’t stop me from that, it was a public gallery. But if I went
to go to the back room to say hello to Knute in shipping or Mary Jackson, I
mean, people I’d hired, [inaudible]. And slowly but surely, all my group
– Estelle Yanco, who had been with the gallery for 25 years, and even
before that, was asked to resign. Then Hilda Castleman [ph] left, and –
One by one, they all just left, except for Knute and Mary Jackson, the two black
people; Knute in shipping, and Mary Jackson had been in mailroom, but now she
was sort of a computer and order handler. And of course, when they closed, I
think they gave them – They gave everybody six months pay, regardless
of whether they’d been there one year or 25 years. And these two had been
there all their lives. And I even called Lillian Berkman said, “I think
this is outrageous. You should – they should get double.” “Well,
it’s all arranged,” you know. And that was that.

MS. BERMAN: Had you somehow had a rapprochement with Lillian Berkman, that
you could call her?

MR. COLE: We’d see each other once or twice a year at different events;
there were art shows or something like that. And she was always very cordial.
I still have some – I guess I haven’t spoken to her in about two
or three months, but I – They called me to see if there was any value
to the blocks or plates that they had tons of, from old AAA days. And I went
down to the warehouse and looked through and said, “No. There –
there’s no sense to keeping those. I mean, might as well just trash ‘em.”
The only thing is, I thought there may have been some Feininger blocks which
I had. And those would’ve had some historical importance or value. And
I didn’t find those, but I think I had given most of those – and
I only had twelve or thirteen – I think I’d given most of those
to museums before I left.

MS. BERMAN: Now, was Lillian Berkman knowledgeable about art? Or did she become
so?

MR. COLE: Not really. I think she was on the board of the Brooklyn Museum.
You know, one of these wealthy patrons. Lillian Berkman had perhaps a career
that’s worth looking into. She was a poor girl from the Bronx, sent to
CCNY [City College of New York], and met this Jewish Dutch refugee, who was
also going to CCNY. I guess this was during World War II or – Yeah. They
fell in love, married. War ends. He inherits this huge collection of paintings.
[Anthony] Van Dyck, [Aelbert] Cuyp, a supposed Rembrandt, couple of [Giovanni]
Tiepolos, God knows what all. Dutch collection. And – He’s a whiz.
The war’s over. He goes into farm machinery and equipment, from scratch,
with a little money from the family. It survived the war. And builds this up,
gets bought out by Deere. And I remember she told me that they were in their
middle twenties, and they were millionaires. Whatever this guy touched, evidently,
turned to gold. He went into something else and prospered. They were building
this mansion out in Long Island. Just two – two kids. I guess this is
– now they’re in their forties. Fifties? I don’t remember.
But two things happened. The house burns down, he dies. No connection one to
the other. So here’s this widow with lots of money. And she buys this
townhouse on 64th Street opposite Wildenstein and sets it up. There’s
a [Antonio] Canova model in the lobby and paintings. I remember there’s
Canalettos in the dining room. And lots of Dutch stuff – some of which
may not be correct. I have a feeling that she’s looked into it and –
‘Cause I don’t think she’s being chased a lot by institutions
or museums. But that’s how she got on the Brooklyn board. She marries
Jack Berkman, who’s then a widower. And she’s then part of that
Berkman gang. Jack just died about three or four years ago, and she still has
huge stock holdings. But evidently, a lot of what Jack owned went to his son.
And the last I spoke with her, the relationship is still very –

[END OF INTERVIEW.]

This transcript is in the public domain and may be used without permission. Quotes and excerpts must be cited as follows: Oral history interview with Sylvan Cole, 2000 June-Oct, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.